


Sun Above Your Shoulders

by longleggedgit



Series: Sun Above Your Shoulders [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Hinata and Kageyama go to different high schools and both suffer, M/M, Slow Burn, aka the most self-indulgent thing I have ever written, but it has a happy ending I SWEAR, is that a genre??, summer high school beach romance, then meet for the first time since middle school in Okinawa over summer vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-19 12:06:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5966832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longleggedgit/pseuds/longleggedgit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hinata and Kageyama go to different high schools and meet again in Okinawa for the first time since middle school.</p><p> </p><p>
  <i>"Toss for me!" </i>
</p><p>
  <i>The boy is grinning, already leading the way onto the court, walking backwards. Unthinkingly, Kageyama starts to follow him, then stops, annoyed at himself.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"I don't even know your name," he says.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Hinata Shouyou." Hinata steps to the right side of the net and waits.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, this ridiculous thing wouldn't even exist if not for [reallycorking](http://reallycorking.tumblr.com) warmly embracing my plot ideas and drawing inspiring fanart (which you can find within!!) and enduring my periodic email updates for months on end, David fucking Copperfield-style, from start to finish, so please give her a round of applause for all the inspiration and constant feedback. Also a round of applause for [reeology](http://reeology.tumblr.com) for betaing, thank you so much your feedback was invaluable <333
> 
> Title from the highly appropriate [Greek Song by Rufus Wainwright!](https://youtu.be/4gr0cnKaCfs)

It's too hot in Okinawa. Kageyama tries to go running, but only makes it a little over half his usual distance before giving in to exhaustion and collapsing on the beach. It's too hot, and sand is hard to run on. He lifts a hand to wipe his face and just ends up smearing a sweaty streak of dirt across his forehead. 

Frowning, Kageyama lies back and covers his eyes with a sticky, sandy forearm and tries to calculate how much longer he's stuck here. Maybe five weeks. Math has never been his best subject.

 _The ocean air will be good for you,_ his mother had said.

Kageyama rolls over and punches the ground. It gets sand in his eye.

 

His aunt's beach house is nice; big by mainland standards but not excessive, with tall glass windows that offer plenty of natural light and a prime view of the ocean. Kageyama can remember visiting when he was in elementary school and loving it, begging his parents to extend their vacation by another week, even a day. Now he's searching the kitchen for a calendar, trying to figure out if he has five and a half weeks left or just five. 

"You look lost," Aunt Mai observes. She's ladling curry from a pot on the stove into two bowls and watching Kageyama with more intensity than he likes. "Can I help you find something?"

Kageyama stops scanning the walls and drops his gaze to the floor. "No," he says.

She hands him a bowl and he accepts it silently, following as she leads the way to the kitchen table. "You can tell me if there's something you need," she says.

Kageyama takes the seat across from his aunt and picks up his spoon, pushing around a carrot in his bowl. He hates Mai's astuteness sometimes. "Just looking for a calendar," he mumbles.

Even without looking up, he can feel her frown settle over him.

"Phones have calendars on them," she says after a moment. "Didn't your parents finally get you one of those?"

It hadn't even occurred to Kageyama to look at his phone. He blinks, then lifts his head and scans the room again, trying to remember where he last saw it.

"Next to the TV," Mai says, with a sigh that sounds exasperated but maybe also a little amused. "I charged it for you. Your mother called twice, by the way."

"Thanks," Kageyama says. He ducks his head and starts to shovel curry into his mouth, determined now to finish fast.

"She called me, too. She wants to know how you're doing." All amusement has fled from her voice in a hurry. "I didn't know what to say."

Kageyama's spoon stops midway to his mouth and hovers there. "I'm fine," he answers, a few seconds too slow. 

"It's not forever, you know. You really will get to play volleyball again."

A rush of bitter frustration puts a sour taste in his mouth, and Kageyama has to swallow against it, forcibly resisting the urge to bark a nasty response. "Okay," he says, his tone flat and cold.

"It's important to take breaks sometimes," Mai continues. "It can help you reset. Even with my work, I—"

Kageyama scarfs down the last of his dinner in two enormous mouthfuls and stands up before she can finish her sentence. "Thanks for dinner," he interrupts. "Excuse me."

He can hear Mai sighing as he carries his dishes to the sink and turns on the tap. As soon as his bowl is drying in the rack, he retrieves his phone and escapes to his room, pulling up the phone calendar as he goes. 

Five weeks and a day exactly. After a little fiddling, he manages to set an alert to go off a week before he goes home. It's the closest thing he can figure out to a countdown.

 

Kageyama wakes up late the next morning, which annoys him because it means it's going to be even hotter for running. He should wait until later in the afternoon in order to avoid the midday sun, but every nerve in his body is itching for activity. After a hurried breakfast, he throws on his lightest sleeveless t-shirt, slathers on some sunscreen, and takes off for the beach. His aunt works on weekdays, so the house is empty, but he doesn't realize until a few minutes out that he forgot to lock the door; it's hard to get in the habit, but Mai is always reminding him Okinawa isn't as safe as home.

Cursing, Kageyama turns back the way he came. He's already sweating far more than a few minutes of exercise should warrant, and by the time he's located the spare set of keys—upstairs on his bedside table, next to the phone he also forgot—he's both cranky and exhausted. Only the idea of staying inside doing nothing at all can drive him back out again. He locks the door with an angry jerk, starts running in the direction he always goes, then slows. He's never gone left along the beach from his aunt's house, simply because it's unfamiliar and he doesn't trust himself not to get lost, but if he squints in that direction, he can see a row of trees lining what appears to be a boardwalk.

The prospect of a shaded running path made of something other than sand outweighs his worries about getting lost. Kageyama picks up his pace again, veering left, and is rewarded after only a few minutes of the sun beating down directly on his shoulders by exactly what he was hoping to find. The boardwalk is cement and uniformly flat, raised high above the beach, and seemingly endless, curving out of sight into the distance. The trees extend along most of it, too, although the sun is high enough right now that the shade doesn't reach very far. He can see a few other joggers enjoying the flat surface, mostly middle-aged men with dark sweat stains spreading down to their waists. 

Kageyama takes the nearest flight of stairs up to the boardwalk, two-by-two, and takes off, leaving the casual joggers puffing in his wake. If he hugs the left side nearest the trees, he can just manage to stay mostly in the shade as he goes. The height of the boardwalk makes it easy to look down over the beach and watch the waves without actually having to deal with sand or the smell of fish. He can almost enjoy himself.

The sense of satisfaction lasts about ten minutes, until the sun gets even higher and his shade disappears entirely. Kageyama can feel the last of his energy draining out of him, just like his sweat. He draws to a reluctant stop alongside a staircase, chest heaving, and drinks hungrily from his water bottle. 

He hears the sound of a volleyball being spiked before he sees it. Below, down the staircase and to his left, from an area of the beach that's partially obscured by an enormous, unattended bulldozer and a copse of gnarled trees. Kageyama grabs onto the railing and leans as far out as he can, trying to see around the trees, his heart pounding. He has to wait for some time, but sure enough, there it is again: the sharp smack of a hand against a ball and a grunt of effort, so familiar Kageyama could have placed it in his sleep. And there, over the tops of the trees, a flash of green and red.

Kageyama is hurtling down the stairs before he's even caught his breath, taking the last three all at once and almost wiping out with the force of his own momentum. It doesn't slow him down. Sand kicks up under his feet as he runs, circling the bulldozer and trees until finally he spots the corner of a volleyball net and a shock of red, wild hair. The realization that it might come off as a little frighteningly overeager if he jumped right onto the court panting and sweaty and begging to play brings Kageyama's feet to a reluctant halt. He stands beside one of the trees, cautious but transfixed, and watches the boy with the ball.

It's hard to tell from behind, but the boy is probably a middle schooler, judging by his height. He looks about 163 centimeters, maybe 164, but still he has the body of an athlete. His calf muscles in particular are well-defined, evidence of a training regimen too rigorous for a casual player. And he's alone, but still attempting to practice spiking, which makes Kageyama snort. There are volleyball drills you can do by yourself for practice, but spiking isn't one of them.

The boy does his best anyway, and Kageyama has to admit, it isn't bad. He throws the ball as high as he can, then races around from behind to spike it from an almost natural angle. It wouldn't be possible if he weren't so quick, but his feet move faster than most players Kageyama has encountered. It's almost familiar, really; Kageyama frowns and takes a step forward, sure now that he's seen this before, although he doesn't know when or how. 

Despite his good footwork, the boy's hit is weak. He doesn't even manage to send the ball over without it touching the net, and when it happens for the third time Kageyama can hear him curse. The ball rolls away to the right, the boy whirls to retrieve it, and Kageyama finally catches a glimpse of his face.

A gasp escapes him before he can stop it. The boy hears him and jolts, turning and clutching the ball to his chest, protective. Still, his face brightens when he spots Kageyama.

"Hey! Hi! How's it going? Do you like volleyball? Do you wanna play?" He's shielding his eyes from the sun as he hurries forward, but once they're close enough he stops dead and drops his hand, friendly smile fading as quickly as it appeared.

"Why—what are _you_ doing here?" The boy's voice is high and disbelieving, which is probably exactly what Kageyama would sound like if he weren't stricken speechless.

He scowls and searches his head for any trace of the boy's name, but comes up with nothing. All he has is the memory of the same speed and reflexes he was just admiring, surprisingly clear despite the fact that it's been close to two years. Even though they only met once at a middle school tournament, he's not sure he could ever forget that spike. 

"Your spike got weaker," Kageyama says instead of answering.

The boy's shoulders jerk upright and he nearly drops the ball in sputtering indignation. "I—you—shut up! It's hard to spike alone!" His expression shifts to something more suspicious then, and he looks Kageyama up and down, scrutinizing. "So you remember me?"

Kageyama crosses his arms, irritated and a little self-conscious. "I remember your spike."

This seems to please the boy, at least a little. His mouth quirks into an almost-smile. "I said I'd defeat you," he says. Kageyama remembers that too. "But you weren't on any of the teams we played this year."

"I moved to Yamagata." There's more to it than that, but this kid doesn't need to know it.

To his surprise, the boy's face brightens again. "So you're still playing volleyball?"

Kageyama shifts his feet, digging them deeper into the sand. "Of course." 

Without warning, the boy throws the volleyball straight at Kageyama's chest. He only catches it out of instinct, and even then stumbles a little, off-kilter since they're so close.

"What the hell—" he starts.

"Toss for me!" 

The boy is grinning, already leading the way onto the court, walking backwards. Unthinkingly, Kageyama starts to follow him, then stops, annoyed at himself.

"I don't even know your name," he says.

"Hinata Shouyou." Hinata steps to the right side of the net and waits, crouched and ready, his entire body basically quivering with anticipation.

There's a moment when Kageyama considers just dropping the ball and leaving. It bothers him that Hinata is so confident Kageyama will toss for him, and even despite his speed, from what Kageyama has seen, there's nothing more special about him than that. But the volleyball in his hands feels good, firm and reassuring, and Hinata's eyes are flashing with something he remembers from their match in middle school. It pulls him in.

"Fine," Kageyama snarls, making sure to sound as reluctant as possible, even though his heart skips a beat approaching a volleyball court again. He kicks his shoes off and moves into position, front and center by the net. "Only for a little while."

"Okay!" Hinata is actually bouncing now, rocking up and down on the balls of his feet.

"You throw it first," Kageyama orders, sending the ball back in Hinata's direction.

Hinata doesn't waste time. He throws it high and then runs— _Fast_ , Kageyama thinks, his mind working furiously to find the best place for a toss—jumping at nearly the same instant the ball touches Kageyama's fingertips. Kageyama sets it up and right, and Hinata's palm finds it in just the right spot. It soars over without touching the net and lands with an eruption of sand at the left corner of the far court.

"UWAHHHH!" 

Hinata's shout makes Kageyama jump, and he stares open-mouthed as Hinata races right up to him, shaking out his wrist and beaming. 

"THAT FELT SO GOOD! THANK YOU!"

Even though Hinata is yelling at him from less than a meter away, Kageyama can't bring himself to feel annoyed. Maybe because he's too stunned to feel much of anything; he's not sure anyone has ever thanked him for a toss before. 

Hinata ducks under the net to fetch the ball, then calls, "Again! Please!" and moves into position faster than Kageyama can wipe the sweat away from his upper lip.

"You were still too weak," Kageyama says. "That would've been easy to block." 

"I'll hit it harder this time." Hinata is holding the ball at chest height and still, _still_ beaming, not offended at all, clearly awaiting Kageyama's permission to throw.

"Good," Kageyama says, glowering, but nothing is going to dampen Hinata's optimism. He hesitates, then raises his hands above his head. Hinata actually sighs his relief before throwing again.

They play until their water bottles are empty and neither of them can stand up straight anymore. Kageyama collapses to the ground near the trees, flat on his back, arms spread out at his sides. The sun has changed position enough that they have some real shade, but still he isn't sure he'll ever cool off. Hinata collapses next to him, causing Kageyama to blink against the resulting sand cloud, but he's so exhausted he can't even manage to complain.

"It's so hot," Hinata says, unnecessarily. 

Kageyama grunts.

"Tomorrow we should play earlier. So the sun's not so bad."

Kageyama's head feels like it weighs a ton, but still he lifts it so he can settle the full weight of his gaze on Hinata. He's not sure whether he's glaring or just gaping.

"I'm still gonna beat you someday," Hinata says quickly, meeting Kageyama's eyes without fear. Still, he sounds a little desperate when he goes on, "But for now—you wanna practice too, right? You don't have anyone else here, right?"

 _You don't have anyone else anywhere_ , Kageyama reminds himself. He lowers his head back to the sand and closes his eyes.

"I can be here at eight," he says.

 

At 7:15, Kageyama jerks awake to the sound of his alarm and spends a few seconds wondering why. When the events of the day before come rushing back to him, he sits bolt upright, hits the alarm, throws his covers off, and races downstairs. It won't take him too long to get to the sand court again, but he has to eat and get dressed first.

He's rounding the bottom step when he almost runs into Mai, carrying a cup of coffee and looking more than a little startled to see him.

"Tobio!" she says. "I . . . haven't seen you up before 10 since you've been here."

Kageyama feels like he's been caught in a trap. He rubs the back of his calf with his foot and searches furiously for an explanation. "I'm trying to go running earlier," he says, only fumbling the words a little. "Because. It's hot."

Mai laughs. "It is that," she agrees, but something in her expression tells Kageyama she's not entirely convinced. "Well, I'm about to head out. Don't forget to lock up when you go."

"Okay." 

Kageyama tries to act as if he's not in any hurry, walking slowly to the kitchen and digging through the refrigerator for what's left of yesterday's rice and some eggs. As soon as Mai has called out one last goodbye and closed the front door, however, he stuffs the egg carton back in the fridge, tops a bowl of rice with a few much quicker pre-cooked sausages, and scarfs it down in a matter of minutes. He's dressed and out the door by 7:30.

He has no idea why it feels so important that he get to the court on time. A part of him is nervous that he'll get there and there will be no Hinata, and, by extension, no volleyball. In his rush to get moving, he nearly trips over his aunt's ancient moped, propped up against the wall next to the back door, and then nearly trips again when the neighbor's cat tries to twine itself between his legs, hoping for food or affection or both. 

The obstacles only set him out running faster. The sun definitely isn't as severe this early in the morning, and he feels like he can go at almost his normal pace, especially once he's escaped the sand for the comforting cement of the boardwalk. When he at last approaches the staircase that will carry him down to the court, a glance at his phone tells him he's several minutes early. 

Kageyama hovers uncertainly at the top of the stairs. If Hinata does show up, will he make fun of Kageyama for being overeager? Should he jog back a ways and return a few minutes late?

As if in answer, the sound of a volleyball being spiked, along with Hinata's accompanying grunt, floats up to him. Kageyama is almost alarmed by his own relief. His feet carry him down the stairs, past the bulldozer and around the trees, and when he steps into view Hinata is already looking expectantly in his direction, volleyball ready in his hands.

"You came!" His smile is immediate and sincere.

Kageyama has no idea what to do with his face. "You're early," he says.

Hinata's smile widens. "I was excited!" He pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks it, adding, "Anyway, you're early too."

There's no arguing that, so Kageyama just frowns and bends over to take his shoes and socks off. When he straightens up again, Hinata is still smiling at him, gripping the volleyball so tight it looks like it might pop.

"Are you ready?" he asks. 

A dozen sharp replies come to mind at once, but Kageyama doesn't feel particularly drawn toward any of them. He nods and approaches the net.

Hinata throws as soon as Kageyama is in position, just the kind of ball any setter would kill for in a real match, high and steady. Kageyama adjusts his footing and gets his hands ready, and it feels so easy when he tosses the ball, sharp and tight, to the left. He realizes a fraction of a second too late that it's no good. This is exactly the kind of toss his teammates hate: fast and reckless, unpredictable, impossible to respond to in time. But as he turns toward Hinata, steeling himself for the inevitable complaints, he finds Hinata is gone, a blur in the corner of his vision, and the ball is gone too, already buried in the sand on the other side of the court. Kageyama hadn't even seen the impact.

"Wow," Hinata says, looking down at his hands and then back up at Kageyama. 

_Wow,_ Kageyama agrees, but he can't quite make himself say it.

"You really do have the best toss," Hinata says, frowning like it pains him. "Agh!" He lifts up the net and runs over to the ball, leaving Kageyama to stare down at his own hands.

"Again!" Hinata is already waiting and ready beside him and Kageyama feels like he's stuck in slow motion. He lowers his hands and centers himself, blinking sweat out of his eyes.

"Snap your wrist downward more when you hit," he says, searching for anything to mask how taken aback he is. "It's going to go out if you're too loose."

"Okay, okay." Hinata shifts impatiently. "Are you ready yet?"

He's not sure he is, but Kageyama nods anyway.

They practice until Kageyama can actually feel his skin starting to burn, hot and stinging on his shoulders and nose and cheeks. A glance in Hinata's direction shows he isn't faring any better, and with a mutual nod, they move toward the trees. Kageyama has to tuck himself in directly at the base of a trunk in order to get any shade at all. At the tree to his left, Hinata does the same, and they sit silently draining their water bottles and staring at the court for some time.

Unsurprisingly, Hinata is the one to break the silence. "Your team must have done well this year, huh? What school are you at?" 

The questioning startles Kageyama. "Tentou," he says reluctantly, ignoring the first question entirely.

Hinata doesn't have any comment to make about Kageyama's school; they're far enough away that he's probably never heard of them. "I'm at Karasuno," he says. Kageyama thinks he remembers the name. "I guess we probably won't get to play each other until nationals."

If he hadn't just seen Hinata adapt within the space of a few minutes to his fastest toss, Kageyama would have laughed. Instead, he replies, "I guess."

"Kageyama," Hinata says, leaning in so Kageyama has no choice but to face him. "Why _are_ you in Okinawa? I mean, you must be a regular, right? Don't you have summer volleyball practice?"

Kageyama's mouth tightens into a thin line. His first impulse is to push Hinata's earnest face away and tell him to mind his own business, but it's a natural question to ask, and there's no real harm in telling him at least part of the truth.

"My parents want me to . . . take a break. Just for the summer." Saying the words out loud incites a new rush of frustration inside him. 

"From _volleyball?"_ Hinata sounds so indignant that Kageyama almost smiles. He's grateful that Hinata, at least, understands.

"What about you?" Kageyama asks.

"Oh—" Hinata seems genuinely surprised to have his own question turned on him. "Uh—my mom just really wanted me to come on our family vacation. But I'm not actually a regular yet, so."

Kageyama's eyebrows lift, and he finds himself speaking without meaning to. "It's a complete waste if you're not a regular."

Hinata's face changes. He's shocked, for sure, but more than that, he looks flattered, delighted, his cheeks growing pinker and his skin seeming to glow. Kageyama furrows his brow and hurriedly looks away. 

"You have amazing speed and reflexes," he grates out. "Anyone can see that. They're idiots if they're not using it. But your hit is still weak!"

It's no use; Hinata is positively preening under the compliment, smiling like an idiot, impervious to anything Kageyama could say after. 

"I have to go eat," Kageyama snaps, standing and brushing sand off his shorts.

"Okay," Hinata says brightly, jumping up alongside him. "Tomorrow? Same time?"

Kageyama, pretending to be occupied with brushing away more sand, doesn't immediately speak. "I could come tonight, too," he says at length.

If Hinata was glowing before, it's nothing compared to now. "Okay!" he says; he's practically shouting. "Yeah! Me too! After dinner! What time? Seven? Eight?"

"Eight is fine." Kageyama feels extremely embarrassed now, and he's careful to hide his face as he bends to put on his socks and shoes. "See you later."

"See you!"

Hinata's glow seems to follow him all the way up the stairs and down the boardwalk, but maybe, Kageyama reasons, shielding his eyes with an arm, that's just the midday sun.

 

Practicing at night is more difficult than Kageyama had initially anticipated. First of all, it involves lying directly to his aunt's face, which isn't something he's especially good at.

"A night run?" Mai, stretched out on the sofa with her legs up on the coffee table, sets down her book and frowns. "Do you usually do night runs?"

"Sometimes." Kageyama rubs his elbow, then the back of his head, then lets his hand drop stiffly to his side.

"You haven't joined some secret night volleyball league or something, have you?"

It's a joke, but still Kageyama can feel his face growing hot. "I—"

Mai cuts him off with a wave of her hand. She might have mistaken his awkwardness for sadness, because she looks a little sympathetic now.

"Just be safe," she says. "Stick to the lighted areas and don't be out too late. And bring your phone."

"Thanks," Kageyama says. He stuffs his phone in his pocket, grabs his running shoes, and slips out the back door before Mai can ask any more questions. 

When he gets to the sand court—earlier than Hinata this time—Kageyama discovers the second problem with night practice: the lights from the boardwalk aren't strong enough to properly illuminate the court. He can see the net and the side of the court he's standing on, but only just, and nothing at all beyond that. 

"Hey! Kageyama!" Hinata jogs around the trees, volleyball under one arm, waving enthusiastically. "Sorry—am I late? I had to read to my sister, and then I couldn't find my shoes."

Kageyama doesn't speak, waiting for Hinata to acknowledge their obvious problem. Instead, Hinata starts toeing off his shoes and keeps talking.

"My phone's probably gonna die soon," he babbles, dropping the ball and bending over into a stretch, "so if we end up being later than ten, can I use yours to call my mom? She gets really weird about checking in—"

"Hinata," Kageyama says.

Still touching his toes, Hinata stops babbling and blinks up at him. "What?"

"We can't play." 

"Huh?" Hinata straightens up now, like a shot, like Kageyama just insulted him personally. "What do you mean? Why?"

Kageyama waves in the general direction of the court. "It's too dark. You can barely see the net."

To Kageyama's surprise, Hinata seems to relax at this. "Oh," he says, "that's fine. I don't mind."

It's hard to decide whether to be impressed or annoyed by Hinata's nonchalance. "There's no way you can spike when it's this dark out," Kageyama says, exasperated.

Hinata picks up the ball and takes a step closer; even in the dim light, Kageyama can see his eyes flash mischievously.

" _I_ can play in the dark," he says. "Are you scared?"

All the blood rises to Kageyama's face, and at his sides, his hands ball into instinctive fists. 

"Don't be an idiot!" He kicks his shoes off—they go flying wildly in opposite directions, toward either end of the bulldozer—and stomps onto the court, pretending not to notice Hinata's grin following him. "You'd better have improved your strength since this morning," he snarls, getting into position.

Hinata doesn't even bother replying. "Here I go," he says, still grinning, and then the ball is in the air, and Kageyama has to shift his focus toward the game. 

It's not easy setting for a ball you can barely see. Still, if he channels all his concentration, Kageyama can feel the ball coming with almost as much clarity as he can normally see it—something about the wind, and the sound, and the angle of Hinata's arms when he throws, helps guide Kageyama's hands. Hinata whoops the moment the ball is airborne and takes off.

For all his talk, Hinata is terrible. Again and again, Kageyama manages to set the ball, maybe not with quite his usual accuracy but still generally on course, and again and again Hinata whiffs it. It would be satisfying to see him eating his words except that it's not; like it or not, Hinata is the only spiker Kageyama has, so when his performance suffers, Kageyama's does as well.

"That hit was a mile off," Kageyama snaps, glaring at the ball as it rolls back to his feet.

"I know, I know!" Hinata's voice has taken on a similarly sharp edge that Kageyama hasn't heard before, and he kicks out at the sand, spraying Kageyama's ankles.

"Just give it a rest." Kageyama shakes sand off his feet and turns away, heading back toward the bulldozer. There's a disappointed hollowness settling in his stomach from such an unproductive practice, but, he reminds both himself and Hinata, "We can try again in the morning."

"Agh!" 

Kageyama glances over his shoulder, furrowing his brow at the sight of Hinata tugging furiously at his hair. 

"I can _feel_ it coming," Hinata says, turning his earnest gaze on Kageyama, "but then the place I _see_ it coming looks different, and I end up hitting somewhere in the middle."

Kageyama hesitates. "You can feel it?" he repeats.

Hinata nods. After a moment's pause, Kageyama returns to the court and scoops up the ball.

"Try again," he says, throwing it to Hinata, who only barely catches it in his surprise. "Don't pay attention to your eyes this time. Just feel it."

It sounds stupid to say it out loud, but Hinata doesn't show any sign of doubt. He nods seriously, takes two steps back, and waits for Kageyama to settle in before he throws. Kageyama feels it, too, when he jumps to send it left and high, and he closes his eyes when he comes back to the ground. He's rewarded with the most satisfying smack of a hand against a volleyball he's ever heard, followed by Hinata's excited laugh, and when he opens his eyes again, it's just in time to see Hinata jumping on him.

"How did you know that would work?" Hinata trills, half-hugging, half-tackling Kageyama, who twists his body violently in an effort to get away.

"Get off me!" Kageyama is so startled he loses all strength for a moment, but when it returns, he wastes no time in prying Hinata's hands away from his waist, heart beating fast.

Hinata is entirely unfazed as he's forcibly shoved away. "That was so cool!" he persists, shining eyes fixed steadfastly on Kageyama. "It, like, floated into my hand!" 

Rather than continue to face Hinata's irrepressible enthusiasm, Kageyama lifts the net and storms onto the other court in search of the ball. 

"It was out," he announces, avoiding Hinata's eyes when he comes back, but he knows Hinata is no less elated; out or not, the spike was undeniably a victory.

"The sand volleyball courts are so small," Hinata says. Then, in an excited rush, "Let's try again!"

"Just as long as you don't hug me this time." Kageyama feels weird as soon as he says it, like it should be taboo to even mention again, but Hinata only laughs.

They successfully pull off the quick with every single subsequent attempt, and Hinata manages to keep it inside the court a fair amount of the time, although not with as much consistency as Kageyama would like. Even so, by the time they stumble back to the trees, panting and sticky with sweat, Kageyama's chest is strangely light. He hasn't had this much success tossing for someone, even in a brightly lit gym, for as long as he can remember. It feels like they're on the verge of something momentous. 

"That felt _really_ good." Hinata flumps down in the sand and Kageyama follows suit, unable to help but look as Hinata pulls his phone from his pocket. It's flashing with several unread messages.

"Do you need to call your mom?" Kageyama asks. It's not quite ten yet, but someone is obviously trying hard to get a hold of him.

"Oh, no." Hinata is smiling down at his phone as he scrolls through the messages, but eventually slips it back into his pocket without replying. "That was just a few of my teammates."

Despite the humid night air, Kageyama suddenly feels a little cold. "Oh," he says.

"They've been sending me updates since I've been gone," Hinata continues, oblivious to the fact that Kageyama couldn't be less interested in discussing the topic further.

"They sound great," he says, flatly, hoping to end it there. But Hinata, of course, isn't interested in letting anything go peacefully.

"They are!" he chirps. "Next semester is gonna be weird, since some of our senpai are graduating. But we're gonna be sure we make them proud!"

Kageyama keeps his mouth pressed into a tight line, which Hinata notices not at all. 

"What about you?" he asks, turning his full attention to the side of Kageyama's face. "What are your teammates like?"

"They're fine," Kageyama says briskly. "Do you want to call your mom now?"

Hinata scrunches his nose in what might be confusion, but all he says is, "Yeah, okay. My phone's at one percent. Can I use yours?"

Kageyama hands it over wordlessly and gets up to search for his shoes while Hinata makes the call. Hinata assures his mother he'll be back in ten minutes before bidding her goodnight, and Kageyama, shaking the last dregs of sand from his shoes, returns just in time to find Hinata keying something into his phone. 

"Hey—what are you doing?" He nearly drops his shoes in his haste to snatch the phone back, but Hinata is too quick for him.

"Just hold on a minute!" Hinata buckles forward, out of Kageyama's reach. Kageyama can see now that he's making a call to a contact listed as _~☆Hinata Shouyou!!☆~_

Hinata pulls his own phone from his pocket, and it flashes with the incoming call just once before going dark. The battery finally gave in.

"There," Hinata says, placing Kageyama's phone squarely in his outstretched palm and smiling up at him. "Now we can message each other!"

Kageyama pulls the phone back with more force than necessary and shoves it into his pocket without looking at it. "We don't need to message each other if we meet at the same time every day," he mutters, jamming his shoes on his feet, but Hinata ignores this.

"I've gotta go," he says, rising from the sand to collect his ball. "That was fun," he adds, slipping his own shoes on without shaking any sand out, making Kageyama cringe. "Thanks!"

"Uh. Yeah," Kageyama says. He feels compelled to leave first, for whatever reason, so he turns around without looking at Hinata and says, "See you tomorrow."

"Same time!" Hinata agrees from behind him. "Bye!"

The run home is easy, cool and peaceful, uninterrupted by another human being. Mai has already gone to bed when he gets back, but Kageyama still takes a quick shower, knowing full well he'd be unable to sleep with that much sweat and sand stuck to his skin. By the time he's made it to his room, he's completely forgotten about his phone, and the sound of buzzing from the laundry pile almost makes him jump a foot out of bed.

He digs the phone out of his shorts pocket and sees _~☆Hinata Shouyou!!☆~_ flashing at him.

 _I'm gonna hit it in every time tomorrow!!_ Hinata's message reads.

Kageyama scoffs out loud, but his mouth curves into a smile.

 _Good_ , he sends back, before resolutely hitting the power button.

He's still smiling when he turns off the light and climbs back into bed.

 

For a week straight, they meet for practice twice a day every day. It becomes enough of a routine that soon Kageyama doesn't even need to set an alarm, instead springing out of bed naturally a little after seven. Their morning practices are productive—even in the space of just a few days, Hinata's accuracy is beginning to noticeably improve, and Kageyama, too, can feel his tosses getting cleaner—but the night practices are what leave him feeling especially invigorated. Every time they pull off a quick in the near-black it feels like a step closer to invincibility; Kageyama finds himself daydreaming about it when he's home, quietly working through the steps in his head, looking for chinks in their armor. If Hinata could just up his power a little bit—

"Tobio!" 

Kageyama drops the bowl he was washing into the sink and lifts his head, meeting his aunt's gaze sheepishly. Judging by her tone, this isn't the first time she's said his name.

"Good lord," Mai says, looking at him with real concern. "Did you hear a word I just said?"

"Sorry," he says. 

Mai narrows her eyes and keeps watching him, searching. Kageyama hunches his shoulders and scrubs faster. He's just sticking the last dinner plate in the drying rack when Mai says, "Did you meet someone? Is this some kind of summer romance thing?"

"What?" Kageyama's neck and cheeks go instantly hot. "I—no! No."

"Hmm." Mai's eyes are still narrowed. "Are you playing volleyball?"

"No!" Kageyama yelps. Terrified of giving himself away, he scrabbles for a fuller answer, one that will actually convince her. In the end, his only option is another half-truth.

"I did meet someone," he says, adding quickly when Mai's eyebrows shoot upward, "a guy! Just a—friend." The word feels strange when he says it, but he plows on. "We—he plays sports too, so we've just been—running together."

"Running," Mai repeats. "With a friend."

Kageyama nods, face still burning.

"Okay," Mai says. She's obviously skeptical, but Kageyama can sense that he's dodged a bullet, at least for now. "Well, then. I guess it's about time you go meet your friend."

Kageyama nods again.

"Take a sweatshirt," Mai says, finally turning her gaze away from Kageyama's face. "It's supposed to rain."

"Okay." Kageyama almost gasps it, he's so relieved to be released from his interrogation. He races upstairs for a hoodie, but comes back down more cautiously, like if he runs too loud Mai will start asking questions again.

"Hey," Mai says, just as Kageyama is opening the back door.

He freezes. "Yeah?"

"What's your friend's name?"

Kageyama relaxes. "Hinata Shouyou," he says.

Mai nods, as if in approval. "Okay. Have fun."

Kageyama runs faster than usual, doing his best to ignore the ominous purple shade of the sky. When he gets to the sand court, Hinata is waiting for him, sitting by the trees instead of playing by himself for once, his leg jiggling with impatience.

"You're late!" he says.

"My aunt," Kageyama says, by way of explanation, dropping his hoodie to the ground and kicking his shoes behind him.

"You should text me if you're gonna be late." There's a hint of a pout in Hinata's voice. "That's why I gave you my number."

He doesn't understand why Hinata is making such a big deal out of a few minutes. Kageyama straightens up, intending to say so, but the words catch in his throat at the sight of Hinata's face. There's genuine hurt there.

"Sorry," he says. It falls from his mouth without his permission.

Hinata bounces upright, instantly appeased. "It's okay," he says. "Just tell me next time." 

Then he leads the way onto the court, and Kageyama, still a little off-balance, follows. 

They barely get to play for fifteen minutes before it starts raining. Kageyama glares up at the storm clouds from under the cover of the trees while Hinata races in circles, trying to find his shoes and socks before they get soaked. When he joins Kageyama, he's carrying his shoes in one hand and Kageyama's only slightly damp hoodie in the other.

"You forgot this!"

Kageyama keeps glaring at the sky. "Don't need it," he grunts. It's still warmer than he would like, even with the rain. 

Neither of them says anything for a while. After the third rumble of thunder, it becomes apparent that the weather isn't going to let up anytime soon. 

"I guess we should—" Kageyama starts, then stops dead when he looks sideways at Hinata. Who is wearing his sweatshirt.

Hinata meets his gaze innocently. "What?" he says. "It's cold! And you said you weren't gonna use it!" 

"That doesn't mean you can just put on someone else's clothes!" Despite the bite to his words, Kageyama is more flabbergasted than angry; Hinata is quickly proving to be the biggest mystery he's ever encountered, more incomprehensible even than classical literature.

"It's fine," Kageyama says, when Hinata frowns and starts to tug at the neck of the sweatshirt. "Just—give it to me tomorrow."

Hinata doesn't need to be told twice. "Okay!" he says, cheerful again.

"I should—" 

"You should come to my place," Hinata interrupts.

Kageyama has lost count of how many times he's stopped to gape at Hinata in the past thirty minutes. "What?" he says.

"It's only five minutes away if you run," Hinata says. "And the rain is pretty heavy."

Another clap of thunder sounds, emphasizing Hinata's argument. There's no reason to refuse, Kageyama realizes, frowning at the way his stomach still tangles up a little in anxiousness. He's not sure what he's afraid of; maybe Mai?

"Okay," he agrees, shaking a few water droplets out of his bangs. The trees are starting to drip on them. "I'll have to call my aunt."

"When we get there," Hinata says. He waits patiently while Kageyama struggles into his shoes with damp feet, then flips Kageyama's hood up over his hair. "You sure you don't want your hoodie back?"

Kageyama looks away, glowering. "It's fine," he says. "Let's go."

Hinata leads, up the boardwalk stairs and then right, in the opposite direction of Mai's house. He was telling the truth when he said it was close, but even so, they're soaked by the time they approach Hinata's place, one of a number of identical narrow townhomes standing in a snug row not far from the boardwalk. Hinata points to it, but catches Kageyama's elbow before he can start up the front step.

"Oh, shoot—hold on a sec—" And Hinata disappears, around the back of the row of townhomes, leaving Kageyama alone to blink against the worsening rain. When Hinata appears again a minute later, the volleyball is gone.

"Come on!" Hinata breezes past Kageyama, jogging up the steps and wrenching open the door, motioning for him to keep up.

"Why did you—" Kageyama begins, hurrying into the entryway behind Hinata, but he's immediately shushed.

"Mom!" Hinata calls, pulling down the hood of Kageyama's sweatshirt. "Mom, we need towels, please!"

A small, simultaneously friendly- and worried-looking woman with graying red hair appears from around the corner.

"Shouyou, thank goodness—I was starting to wonder where you were!" She opens a nearby closet door and produces two immense, fluffy towels, which Hinata and Kageyama accept gratefully. 

"Thanks," Hinata says, and when Kageyama echoes him, Hinata's mother turns all her attention his way.

"You must be the friend Shouyou has been talking about!" she says, smiling all the way to the corners of her eyes. 

Kageyama, in the midst of toweling his hair dry, goes still.

"Yeah, um, this is Kageyama," Hinata says quickly, face hidden by his towel. "It's raining really hard, and his place is farther away, so I told him—"

"Of course," says Hinata's mother. "You can stay as long as you need, dear. You must be tired from all that swimming this morning."

Lowering the towel, Kageyama looks to Hinata for help. "Uh—"

"Yeah, lots of swimming!" Hinata chirps. He struggles out of soggy, squeaky shoes and finally steps away from the genkan and onto the floor. "Anyway, we should go dry off."

"Just make sure not to wake Natsu," Hinata's mother says.

"We'll be quiet! Come on, Kageyama!" Hinata shoots him a significant look and makes for the stairs.

"Thank you for your hospitality," Kageyama mumbles, also struggling out of his wet shoes before staggering after Hinata.

The moment they're in Hinata's bedroom, the door safely closed behind them, Kageyama pulls his towel down around his neck and crosses his arms. 

"You're not supposed to be playing volleyball, either."

Hinata doesn't meet his gaze, but his cheeks are definitely pink as he turns toward a small dresser and starts to dig around for fresh clothes. 

"Why not?" Kageyama can't understand. Wanting Hinata to come with on a family vacation is one thing, but there should be no reason for his mother to expressly forbid him to play volleyball.

"I actually, ah, got injured," Hinata says. He tugs at the too-long cuffs of Kageyama's sweatshirt sleeves and keeps his eyes on the open dresser drawer.

Kageyama can feel his eyes widen. He quickly runs through Hinata's movements in the hours they've put in playing together so far, searching for any sign of hesitation or tenderness. It couldn't be a sprained foot or ankle, not with the speed he's demonstrated even on sand, and he has plenty of flexibility in his shoulders and elbows. The only thing that's seemed potentially off is—

"Your wrist," Kageyama says, frowning down at Hinata's hands. 

"It's fine now!" Hinata says, but he starts rubbing the offending wrist anyway, maybe subconsciously. "It was just a sprain, and it's mostly back to normal. My mom just _thinks_ I need to rest more." 

"You could've told me." Kageyama tries to count the number of times he's called Hinata's spike weak in the past week. His stomach tangles unpleasantly.

"I thought . . . maybe you wouldn't play with me if you knew." Hinata has been avoiding Kageyama's eyes throughout the entire conversation, but he risks a glance upward now, nervously.

 _That's stupid,_ Kageyama opens his mouth to say. But he stops before the words can come out, considering just what his reaction would have been the first day he ran into Hinata on the beach if he'd said his spiking wrist was injured. Probably something along the lines of, _What a waste of time._

His mouth closes.

"Are you gonna stop playing with me now?" Hinata asks. He's back to looking down at the dresser drawer, his shirt sleeves, anywhere but Kageyama.

"No." Kageyama isn't sure why so much has changed in the space of a week, but he knows he couldn't bear the idea of stopping their daily practices. "But we should practice some other stuff too. You shouldn't be spiking so much if your wrist is still healing."

Hinata seems only vaguely reassured. "I like spiking," he whines.

"Then don't ruin your chances of ever doing it again by pushing an injury!" It comes out harsher than Kageyama intends, but he doesn't feel that bad, even when Hinata flinches. 

"Fine."

"So," Kageyama says, changing the subject mostly because Hinata's pouting is annoying, "you told your mom we've been . . . swimming?"

"Oh," Hinata says. "Yeah—I told her you don't know how so I'm teaching you."

Hinata starts to struggle out of Kageyama's damp hoodie, pulling up his T-shirt at the same time, and Kageyama sputters, his cheeks heating in indignation.

 _"What?_ I know how to swim!"

"Well, she doesn't know that!" Hinata starts to tug down his shorts, and Kageyama, _tsk_ ing loudly, turns away. His face is blazing, but he decides to let the humiliation go for now.

"What about when we practice at night?" he asks, glaring at the wall.

Out the corner of his eye, he can see Hinata step into a fresh pair of boxers, then straighten up and shrug. "I just said we've been hanging out."

It takes a few seconds for Hinata's answer to register; Kageyama feels weirdly unfocused, and has to towel off his hair once more to return to his senses.

"Hanging out?" he repeats, perplexed. How could any parent buy that as an excuse for anything?

Just as he says it, the sound of a phone vibrating comes from the pile of wet clothing at Hinata's feet. 

_Right_ , Kageyama thinks, watching Hinata bend to rescue his phone and flip it open to check his messages. It's not that inconceivable that Hinata might actually do things with people that aren't related to volleyball from time to time.

"Your teammates message you a lot." 

He doesn't mean for the comment to sound quite as bitter as it does, but something in his tone makes Hinata look up sharply. After considering Kageyama for a moment, he tosses his phone onto the bed and then sits down beside it.

"Yeah," Hinata answers at last, "I guess."

Kageyama feels strange, standing in the middle of the room while a shirtless Hinata studies him, so he takes a seat on the edge of the bed too, as far away from Hinata as possible.

"You don't get along with your teammates, huh?"

It's Kageyama's turn to look up sharply now. "I—" he starts, voice rising with a hot flash of anger, but as soon as he meets Hinata's eyes, it fizzles out. He turns away again.

Hinata, maybe sensing he's walking on a minefield, waits a little while before asking, "Is that why you're not playing volleyball this summer?"

 _Just leave,_ Kageyama thinks, his shoulders going taut. _Just tell him to shut up and leave._

He has no idea how much time passes before he finally opens his mouth, forcing out an answer that is, unexpectedly, completely honest.

"They're thinking about kicking me off the regulars." It hurts physically when he says it, like the words are full of poison, burning his throat.

He can feel Hinata tense beside him. "They—who?"

"The captain. The coach. Everybody." Now that he's started it's easier, somehow, almost a relief to get it out. He hasn't even really talked about it with his parents, although he knows they've talked to his coach. "They think I'm bad for the team."

"But—" Hinata lets the word hang there long enough that Kageyama glances sideways at him. The shirtlessness makes it obvious that he's still too skinny on top for a volleyball player, and his hair is half-mashed-down from the towel and rainwater. His cheeks and nose are peeling a little from sunburn and his brow is furrowed hard, like he's working out a difficult math problem. "But you're, like, perfect."

Something happens in Kageyama's stomach, a fierce kind of jerk, so unfamiliar he wonders briefly if he's going to be sick. But then it passes, or at least fades, and he's left with nothing to focus on but how to formulate a response.

"I mean," Hinata goes on, sparing Kageyama from speech for at least a little longer, "you're like, super tall, and good at serving and receiving and everything—and your setting is like . . . !" He waves his hands in circles a few times, as if this illustrates his point perfectly. "What team wouldn't want you?"

"I'm—" Kageyama starts, pausing to clear the roughness out of his throat. "I'm not really good at teamwork."

Impossibly, Hinata still looks disbelieving. "You work fine with me," he says.

He comes very close to saying, _You're different_. "That's different," is what he says instead.

They both fall quiet. Kageyama stares down at his feet, stained gray with water and sand dust, and thinks about his team. He has no idea how practice is going to go when he returns; the coach called it a trial period, a test to see if an extended time-out will be enough to improve Kageyama's teamwork and, if not, whether the team can operate without him. For the first time since his arrival in Okinawa, Kageyama feels a twinge of dread at the prospect of going back. If only—

"I wish we were on the same team," Hinata says.

Kageyama startles. His shock must be apparent on his face, because Hinata takes one look at him and starts stammering.

"I mean—it's just—well, we're doing good, right?" 

They are doing good. Kageyama nods.

"And—I don't know—my team is great," —Hinata is speaking in a rush, his words slightly breathless— "and they like me and stuff, but they don't really _need_ me. I'm like their mascot or something."

Kageyama thinks back to the first time they played on the court at night, when Hinata hit his toss without even properly seeing it. _A waste_ , he thinks again.

"I just think we might play well together for real," Hinata finishes, trailing off, obviously embarrassed now. 

"Yeah," Kageyama says. "Maybe." He wants to say more, but even this small concession is exhausting. He feels lightheaded.

Still, Hinata smiles. "Okay," he says, jumping of the bed with renewed energy. "This just means we have to practice really hard while we're here. So when we go back, they have to put us both on the regulars. And then we can finally meet at nationals!"

Kageyama can't help it; he starts to smile, too. "Obviously," he says. "But you still have to lay off the spiking for a while."

Hinata's face falls. "You're the worst."

As he's deciding whether to be offended or not, Kageyama's phone starts ringing. He stands, a little surprised, and swallows nervously when he sees his aunt's number flashing on the screen.

"Hi," Kageyama says, flipping his phone open at the exact moment that Hinata yelps.

"Your shorts got my bed all wet!"

"Shut up," Kageyama hisses. He turns his back to Hinata and protects the mouthpiece of the phone with his hand. "Uh—hello? Aunt Mai?"

"Tobio," comes Mai's voice, in a tone he's not sure he recognizes. "Where are you?"

"Sorry," Kageyama says quickly, "I was about to call—it started raining, so we, uh—I—I'm at my friend's house."

He feels, rather than sees, Hinata perk up at this.

On her end, Mai is quiet for a beat longer than Kageyama likes. Then she says, "At Shouyou's?"

Hinata is standing on tip-toe now, trying to crane over Kageyama's shoulder and listen in. Kageyama elbows him in the ribs.

"Yes," he says.

"Okay," says Mai. "Can I speak to his mother?"

"Sure!" It's Hinata who answers. Kageyama shoots him a glare.

"Come on." Hinata opens the door and leads the way down to the living room, and Kageyama has no choice but to follow and deliver his phone to Hinata's mother. She and Mai only talk for about a minute, but Kageyama feels anxious the entire time, and therefore extra annoyed that Hinata keeps beaming at him for some stupid reason. When Hinata's mother finally hands his phone back, he steps into the kitchen before pressing it to his ear.

"Uh. Hello?"

"Hi." Mai's voice sounds a lot warmer now, and Kageyama relaxes a little. "Well, I'm glad you got indoors before it started raining really hard. It sounds like they don't live too far away."

"Yeah." Kageyama doesn't know if he's supposed to say something else. 

"You can stay the night if you want," Mai continues, after a beat. "Hinata-san said it's not a problem."

That thing happens in his stomach again, and he has to exhale slowly to make it go away. "No, I think I'll come back soon."

"Okay." There's another beat. "I'm glad you made a friend, Tobio."

Hinata's head peers around the corner, like he has some kind of sonar that can only detect when people are talking about him.

"Yeah, okay—I'll see you later, good night." Kageyama hangs up without waiting for Mai's answer.

"Are you sleeping over?" Hinata asks the second Kageyama's phone is closed. He's still not wearing a shirt.

"No." He can't look at Hinata when he says it, which is just as well, because he's probably pouting. 

"Why not?" Hinata says, definitely in a pouting voice.

"Because—none of your clothes would fit me." It's at least not a point Hinata can argue, and Kageyama uses his stumped silence as an opportunity to escape to the genkan. He only pauses to thank Hinata's mother on the way out.

"Shouyou, give him an umbrella if he's not staying!" she calls after them. 

"Yeah, okay." Hinata trades Kageyama an umbrella for his wet towel and stands watching the whole time he struggles back into unpleasantly cold and wet socks and shoes.

Kageyama is expecting Hinata to keep pouting, but when he looks up to say goodbye, Hinata is smiling again.

"See you tomorrow," he says. His voice is weirdly quiet. Kageyama grips the handle of the umbrella and eyes him uncertainly. 

"For swimming lessons!" Hinata almost shouts it, his grin broadening.

"Shut up," Kageyama growls, flushing and grappling for the door handle.

He jogs down the stairs and across the beach to the boardwalk without looking back. It takes him over five minutes of running in the rain before he realizes he forgot to open the umbrella.

 

Practice goes smoothly over the next week. Hinata only wastes a few minutes of the first day begging for unlimited spiking practice before he has to accept Kageyama won't budge, and after that they're productive—more than productive. Even practicing other skills besides setting, Kageyama feels incredibly focused when he's working with Hinata. It's as if his mind is regaining some of the sharpness that got dulled over the course of the past year, as if just demonstrating how to serve and receive—Hinata is almost unspeakably bad at both—is transforming him into something better.

On Friday, he wakes up earlier than usual, full of energy and eager to get to the court. He throws on a clean pair of shorts and a shirt, grabs his water bottle from the fridge, and bids Mai a distracted goodbye before heading out the door. He thinks he can hear her call something after him, but probably she's just telling him to take his key, and for once he didn't need the reminder. Without wasting any more time, he takes off for the boardwalk.

Hinata is approaching at the exact same time as Kageyama when he reaches the stairway.

"Oh!" Hinata draws up alongside the railing, stops, and stares. "You're really early!"

"I woke up early," Kageyama says with a shrug. He wonders suddenly if Hinata is always at the court this far ahead of their arranged meeting time.

"Huh." Hinata nods, but doesn't stop staring. He runs a hand through his hair and ends up giving himself an impressive cowlick.

"What?" Kageyama says, with a self-conscious twinge. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Hinata shakes his head slowly—the cowlick starts to settle—but doesn't look away. "You were smiling," he says.

"Huh?"

"When you came over just now. You were, like, smiling like a normal person."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Kageyama screws his face into the nastiest glare he can manage, but Hinata, far from intimidated, laughs.

"Nothing," he says, grinning. "Anyway, don't worry, it's back to normal now."

Hinata turns down the staircase first, and Kageyama, flustered, his cheeks burning in annoyance, reluctantly follows. 

Neither of them notices the sound of the bulldozer until they're almost to the court. They round the stretch of trees and Hinata comes to a sudden halt, Kageyama bumping into him from behind.

"Watch—" Kageyama starts, but the words die on his tongue.

The bulldozer is moving—it's so loud he has no idea how they missed it from the boardwalk—and a handful of construction workers are milling around, some dragging a few uprooted trees into a pile, others helping direct the bulldozer operator. The poles that once supported their volleyball net are lying side-by-side in the sand, next to what used to be their court.

"Woah, woah, woah!" A construction worker jogs over, holding up his hands like he expects them to leap out in front of the bulldozer. "What are you kids doing here?"

Kageyama's mouth works soundlessly. Luckily, Hinata never appears to be at a loss for words.

"What are you doing to our volleyball court?" he demands. The construction worker has to be at least 185 centimeters, and Hinata has taken a nervous step behind Kageyama, but still his voice is fierce, and he's digging fingers into his volleyball like he's ready to fight.

The construction worker is unfazed. "It's not your volleyball court, kid, it's the hotel's," he says, jerking his thumb behind him, toward one of the buildings on the other side of the boardwalk. "And nobody uses it anymore. They want the area cleared out for a restaurant."

Hinata lowers the volleyball, shoulders drooping. "But—you can't!" he argues, turning worried eyes up at Kageyama. It makes Kageyama feel strangely guilty, even though none of this is his fault; his chest tightens.

"Come on," he says, voice low, putting a hand on Hinata's shoulder. Hinata hesitates, then wilts. He turns away and trudges toward the stairs, and Kageyama lets his hand drop and follows.

They climb the stairs silently, but Hinata whirls on him as soon as they reach the boardwalk. "What are we gonna do?" he demands. His eyes are very serious.

"I—I don't know!" Kageyama is both perplexed and a little gratified by the amount of faith Hinata seems to have that he will be able solve this problem. He wracks his memory for everything he can recall about the surrounding area.

"My parents used to take me to a resort beach that had a court," he says at length, squinting as he struggles to remember details, "but it wasn't that close. We always drove."

Hinata's eyes remain fixed on him, unwavering. He doesn't say a word.

Kageyama feels pinned. He tries again. "Or, uh . . . my aunt has a computer. We could—look at a map. Maybe there's something else nearby."

Appeased, Hinata nods. "Let's go."

It's strange leading Hinata to his aunt's house, but Hinata is nothing but enthusiastic. Now that he's been given some hope, however distant it may be, he's gone bright and cheerful again, _Ooh_ ing in impressed delight as they draw close to Mai's. 

"Wow, it's huge! And you have a really nice view!"

Kageyama grunts and digs in his pocket for the back door key. "Make sure you brush off all the sand before you—" he starts, working the key into the deadbolt, but he's interrupted by a loud squeal.

"Kageyama! Look!"

Kageyama turns to find Hinata crouching to pet the neighbor's cat. He scratches its ears and laughs when it makes a weird warbling noise at him.

The word _Cute_ comes to Kageyama unbidden, and he frowns; he's seen that cat a million times and never found it anything but annoying.

"You—just—wait out here then," he mutters. Hinata chirps an easy "Okay!" and Kageyama pushes open the door, toeing off his shoes and brushing the sand from his feet and ankles before stepping inside. 

He finds his aunt's laptop on the kitchen table and starts searching right away, but the sound of Hinata cooing at the cat carries though the open window and makes it hard to concentrate. Kageyama sits heavily on a chair and scrubs his forehead with the back of his hand.

The first map he checks has nothing but restaurants on it. The second map includes the names of all the major nearby beaches, but doesn't indicate whether they have volleyball courts or not. Google Maps has pictures of all the beaches, but it would take him a hundred years to scan every single one for any sign of a volleyball net.

"Kageyama!" Hinata's voice calls for him through the window. Kageyama sighs, slams the laptop shut, and rises from his chair. 

"What is it?" He's half-expecting to find Hinata scratched and bleeding when he comes out, but Hinata is just as bright-eyed as when he left him, standing near the door and pointing. The cat is sitting on the back of his aunt's moped now, cleaning its leg and ignoring them both.

"I've seen the cat before, Hinata—"

"No," Hinata says, in such breathless excitement that Kageyama has no choice but to fall quiet. "The _bike."_

"What?" Kageyama follows the path of Hinata's arm again, blinking at the moped. The cat jumps off and wanders away, maybe annoyed it's no longer the center of attention. "No," Kageyama says, shaking his head and scowling at the moped's chipping white paint and bent rear-view mirror. "No way."

"Why not?" Hinata bounds forward and grabs hold of Kageyama's wrists. Kageyama tenses and tries to pull away, but Hinata's grip is tight. "You said we could get to the beach court if we drove, right?"

"That's not—I don't even know if it's still there! It was years ago!" Kageyama tries to tug his hands back for the second time, but he just ends up pulling Hinata in toward him. It's disorienting being close enough that he could count every one of Hinata's freckles; Kageyama winces against the wave of heat that overtakes him, settling heavy in his stomach, just like the night at Hinata's house.

"So?" Hinata doesn't seem to have noticed their proximity, nor Kageyama's wince. He presses closer, standing on tiptoes, tilting his chin up. "Let's try it and see!" 

Kageyama has to close his eyes. He wonders if he might be getting heat stroke. "I don't have a license," he says. He almost chokes on the words, his mouth is so dry.

"But you've driven it before, right?"

Hinata releases him so swiftly Kageyama staggers backward, his back hitting the wall. He opens his eyes, embarrassed, but Hinata isn't paying any attention—instead, he's dancing around the moped, touching the back tire and the seat and the handlebars in turn.

"I've driven it," Kageyama says. It occurs to him in that exact moment, even as the words are leaving his mouth: he is going to do what Hinata asks. There isn't any question.

"Then it'll be fine!" Hinata looks over his shoulder at him now, finally, and smiles. "Just be careful and we won't get pulled over!"

He takes a few seconds to recover from whatever is wrong with him. When at last his legs feel steady, Kageyama moves toward Hinata and the moped.

"I'll have to look for the helmets," he says, working hard to sound as reluctant as possible.

"I'll help!" 

Hinata follows Kageyama inside, vibrating around him like a hummingbird. Kageyama sends him to dig through a closet while he plucks the moped key from a hook by the front door, and by the time he turns around, Hinata is already there, one helmet in each hand.

"Found 'em!" He extends the larger helmet toward Kageyama proudly. His cheeks are stained red with an excited flush—or maybe he has heat stroke, too.

Kageyama takes the helmet and ducks his head. "Let's pack some stuff for lunch."

Ten minutes later, he's pushing the moped out to the main road, batting Hinata away while he gives it a final inspection. There's probably enough gas to get them to the beach and back, which had been his main worry, and the oil level is okay. Nothing seems more complicated than he remembers from the last time Mai let him take it for a loop around the neighborhood. 

"It's fine, let's go, let's go," Hinata whines, hitching a bag weighted down with lunch and water bottles and a volleyball higher on his shoulders.

"Calm down," Kageyama growls, but he's the one who's far from calm as he snaps on his helmet and mounts the seat of the moped. His heart is beating wildly, and he still feels lightheaded, vaguely sick; it's probably not a good idea for him to be driving this thing.

His heartbeat picks up even more when Hinata climbs on behind. "Just a second," Hinata says. Kageyama can hear the click of his helmet's chin strap, and then Hinata slides forward, his chest pressing flush against Kageyama's back. A moment passes—Kageyama counts five erratic heartbeats—before Hinata's arms wrap loosely around his waist.

"Is this okay?" he asks. His chin hovers near Kageyama's shoulder, not quite resting there. 

"You should probably," Kageyama says, his own voice unfamiliar to his ears, "hold on tighter."

Both Hinata's hands curl against Kageyama's stomach, and his arms squeeze him tight. His chin has nowhere to go but Kageyama's shoulder now.

"Okay," he says, breath warm against Kageyama's neck. "Ready!"

It takes Kageyama some time to orient himself. He kicks the kickstand, squeezes the breaks, hits the kill switch, and, as the engine rumbles to life, Hinata grabs fistfuls of his shirt.

Kageyama takes a deep breath and twists the handlebars. They accelerate with a little jerk, which Hinata accentuates with a little _"Oh!"_ , right next to Kageyama's ear, and then they're off, down the street and gaining speed.

"Oh," Hinata says again when they hit forty kilometers per hour. The wind is whipping loudly around Kageyama's ears, and he has to squint so his eyes don't water; he'd forgotten what this felt like. Hinata's arms are tightening around his waist.

"Are you okay?" Kageyama asks, raising his voice to be heard over the wind. 

To his surprise, Hinata's immediate response is a laugh. "Great!" he shouts, louder than necessary. His arms tighten even more. "It's really pretty!"

Kageyama risks a glance over his shoulder, taking in the ocean and the sand and the beach houses they pass on their left, and then Hinata's profile, bright-eyed and windswept as he takes it all in, too. Hinata catches his eye and smiles.

 _Careful_ , Kageyama thinks. He faces forward with renewed focus on the road in front of them. 

Navigating to a beach he hasn't visited in years takes all the focus he can muster. They have to stop and turn around twice, and at one point he ends up almost driving them into a ditch when he thinks he sees a police car that turns out to be a taxi. But then, just as he's starting to go tense with frustration, he spots a sign that looks familiar.

"Did that say Hearth Café?" he calls over his shoulder.

"Huh?" Hinata's mouth draws in close to Kageyama's ear. "Uh—maybe?"

Kageyama twitches his shoulder and Hinata draws back. Without warning, Kageyama turns—probably a little too sharply, judging by the way Hinata's fingernails dig into his abdomen—and takes them down the side street to their left. They pass a hotel that also looks familiar, and Kageyama directs the moped on instinct, swerving through a few more side streets, losing speed as they struggle up a small hill that curves right. 

Hearth Café is there, at the end of the block. As soon as he spots it, Kageyama knows he's found the place. They used to come here for shrimp and avocado sandwiches after swimming and volleyball.

"What," Hinata says as they start to lose even more speed, "are you hungry or—" but he stops talking when he spies what Kageyama already knows is there, down and left, at the bottom of a steep embankment that leads to the beach. The volleyball nets are gleaming as much as the water, they're so white and pristine, a hundred times nicer than the court they've been playing on by the boardwalk.

"Kageyama!" Hinata grips Kageyama's shoulder with one hand and points with the other. "Down there! There are two!"

The only way to the courts is down the embankment and through the sand. Kageyama pulls over behind a parked van and cuts the engine. 

"Okay," he says, pulling the key from the ignition. "I think we have to—"

Hinata leaps from the back of the moped, yanking his helmet from his head, and grabs Kageyama's elbow. "Come on, let's go!" he says, tugging so hard Kageyama has to scramble to swing his leg over the seat so he doesn't fall. 

"Hey!" Kageyama yells, but Hinata lets go of him and takes off for a nearby staircase. Kageyama runs after him, stuffing the keys in his pocket and struggling to unsnap his helmet as he goes.

They race all the way to the waterfront, Hinata laughing and Kageyama fighting not to do the same. Neither of the courts are being used, but as they approach, an attendant from the resort appears and informs them the beach isn't free. After one glance at Hinata's devastated face, Kageyama sighs and shoves a crumpled bill into the attendant's hand.

"Thank you thank you sorry thank you!" Hinata is hopping on one foot trying to pull off his left shoe, but he still looks up at Kageyama in earnest gratitude. 

"Whatever. You owe me," Kageyama says, even though Mai is fairly free with his allowance, and up until now he's had nothing to spend it on all summer.

Freed from his shoes at last, Hinata wrestles the volleyball from their bag and straightens up. "I'll make it up to you!"

"Oh yeah? How?" Kageyama bends down to take off his own shoes, which means his head is mercifully bowed for Hinata's response.

"I'll always spike for you, forever, no matter what!"

He runs away as soon as he's said it, too impatient to wait, charging onto the court with the ball raised above his head. Kageyama stays bent at the waist, fingers tangled in the knots of his laces, and tries to calm the frantic stutter of his heart.

He wants to ask a hundred follow-up questions. _What does that mean? Would you say it to anybody? Why would you say it when you know it's not possible?_ And then, a smaller but nonetheless nagging question, for himself as much as Hinata: _Is it possible?_

"Kageyama, come _on,"_ Hinata whines, sending the ball sailing toward the back of Kageyama's head. Kageyama raises a hand to deflect it on instinct.

"Don't just start playing without stretching first, dumbass," he snarls, with far more venom than necessary, because it helps him gain at least some semblance of composure. 

But Hinata's good mood is impenetrable, and at last Kageyama surrenders, picking up the ball and joining him on the court. Neither of them really spends as much time stretching as they should.

It's impossible not to start out with spiking practice, even despite Hinata's wrist, with a volleyball oasis spread out in front of them. Hinata throws without asking permission and Kageyama doesn't think to criticize it, moving naturally to set up the toss. Hinata hits it with pinpoint accuracy, once and then again and again, and Kageyama can feel the _rightness_ of every quick they execute, the razor-sharp edge of their technique shaping itself into a blade.

After a little while, the resort attendant who took their money abandons his post at an umbrella rental stand to watch. A few passersby set down their beach towels just outside the ball danger zone to do the same, and from the water, a group of teenagers on inflatable rafts occasionally hollers encouragement. 

"Will you toss for us?" Hinata asks the attendant eventually. Kageyama marvels at how easily the man agrees, although he's learning rapidly that turning down a request from Hinata is no small feat. 

He has no idea how long they practice. It feels like barely twenty minutes when, at a shout from the attendant, they stop, except that Kageyama is positively soaked in his own sweat, his shirt clinging to his skin and his breath coming shallow and ragged. 

"You kids are gonna have to take a breather for a couple hours," the attendant informs them. "There's a league that's got the courts booked."

"What? But we paid!" Hinata's voice is outraged, but he's just as sweaty and breathless as Kageyama, and, Kageyama notices with a pang, he's started rubbing his wrist distractedly.

"You paid to use the beach, not the court."

"Okay," Kageyama says, ignoring the glare Hinata shoots him. 

A few of their onlookers, realizing they've come to a break, start clapping, and just as quickly as Hinata's outrage came, it fades. Kageyama can't contain a smile at the sight of Hinata melting under the attention: he turns, rubbing the back of his head, and waves, ears going instantly red when all the swimming teenagers wave back and cheer.

"You guys are pretty good." The attendant looks impressed as he hands off the ball to Kageyama. "You on a team together or something?"

"Something like that," Kageyama mutters.

They retreat under a beach umbrella, free of charge for the "pros in training," and eat a lunch of crumbling onigiri, Hinata still flushed and staring out toward the water.

"Kageyama," Hinata says, one bite into his second onigiri. There's rice on his cheek, almost camoflauged among the freckles, and Kageyama thinks about brushing it off.

"What?" Kageyama says.

Hinata is quiet for so long that Kageyama stops staring at the rice, his eyes darting nervously upward. 

"I'm a better player when I'm with you," Hinata says at last, meeting Kageyama's eyes seriously, without a trace of embarrassment. Meanwhile, all the blood rushes to Kageyama's face so fast he feels dizzy. 

He opens his mouth but knows before even trying that it's futile. Why Hinata insists on doing this to him so often, he has no idea, but it's beyond infuriating, being struck speechless once again while Hinata just favors him with an easy smile.

"Okay." Hinata says it emphatically, like they've come to some sort of agreement, and jumps up, stuffing the last of his lunch into his mouth and brushing his hands on his shorts. "Let's go swimming!"

Finally, Kageyama's throat starts to work. "Huh?"

Hinata gestures at the courts behind them, which have been taken over by old people in sunhats. "What else are we gonna do?" 

The old people have probably served a grand total of five times since Kageyama and Hinata sat down. They seem more interested in cocktails than actually playing volleyball. Still, Kageyama screws up his nose in distaste; he doesn't like swimming much, and he still hasn't recovered from Hinata's strange confession. 

But Hinata doesn't wait for him to agree. He strips off his shirt, dropping it to the sand, and starts off for the water. He's halfway down the beach before he stops, apparently realizing Kageyama isn't right behind him. 

"Aren't you coming?" Hinata calls, turning and shielding his eyes from the sun.

Kageyama stands and slowly peels off his own shirt. Hinata waits until he catches up.

"You have rice on your face," Kageyama says as they take their first wading steps into the ocean. 

"Hmm," Hinata says. "Better wash it off." At which point he promptly, and with surprising force, tackles Kageyama into the waves.

The day passes quickly. After Hinata gets over making fun of Kageyama for disliking getting his head wet, the swimming even turns out to be a little fun, although that's mostly because Kageyama's height makes revenge-dunking Hinata so easy. When the courts open up again, they return to practice serves and receives, and once the heat starts getting to them, they bring the ball into the water and practice receives there. Finally, they can't ignore their sunburns and exhaustion anymore. They drag themselves back to the beach to collect their things and, waving goodbye to the attendant, make their way up to the road where they parked.

"We've gotta get back before six," Kageyama says as he stuffs his helmet on over sweaty, sandy hair. "My aunt will kill us if she finds out we took the moped." 

"Mmm." Hinata seems to have reached a level of sun-soaked weariness that has taken away both his speech and large muscle strength. As soon as Kageyama takes a seat, Hinata climbs on behind him and collapses onto his back, cushioning his helmeted head between Kageyama's shoulder blades and hugging his middle with listless arms.

"Oi," Kageyama says, but it's pretty feeble.

"'M just gonna sleep on the way back," Hinata murmurs, barely audible with his mouth pressed to Kageyama's shirt.

"You'll fall off and die," Kageyama says.

"Mm."

"I'm serious. Sit up straight and hold on."

Hinata makes one last moan of protest but does as he's told, and Kageyama brings the moped to life, only wobbling for a second as he fumbles with the kickstand.

"Kageyama," Hinata says, in a normal voice now, loud enough to be heard over the engine. "Can we come back on Monday?"

Kageyama pauses, hand on the accelerator. Hinata's fingers uncurl and curl again over his stomach, trailing traces of heat right through the fabric of his shirt. Normally, Kageyama knows he would find this strange, but now, maybe because he's so exhausted, too, it makes a sort of dreamlike sense that Hinata would be kneading him like a cat.

"Yeah," Kageyama says. 

[](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/reallycorking/7036268/965909/965909_original.png)

Hinata's hands finally grip more secure handfuls of Kageyama's shirt, but he pillows his head on Kageyama's back again, and that makes a sort of dreamlike sense, too. Kageyama wills himself to wake up as he twists the handlebar and they leave at last, but all the way home, Hinata stays just like that, his cheek warm between Kageyama's shoulders, and by the time they pull into the yard in front of Mai's house Kageyama still isn't confident he's not unconscious.

"Hinata," Kageyama says, turning the key in the ignition. 

Hinata stirs and lifts his head, so slowly Kageyama wonders if it's possible that he actually did fall asleep. Then, Hinata releases him, sliding off the moped and landing unsteadily at its side. His eyes are on Kageyama as he removes his helmet, brows knit thoughtfully together.

Something in the expression catches Kageyama off guard. He's wide awake now, even if he wasn't while driving. He slides off the moped too, on the same side as Hinata, and is quick to dispose of his helmet in the grass at their feet.

"Hinata," Kageyama says again, but he has absolutely no idea where to go from there. Still, Hinata's eyebrows lift expectantly, reassuringly; he takes half a step forward and Kageyama doesn't back away.

The sound of the front door slamming causes both of them to jump. Mai is coming down the steps toward them, her stride furious, phone clutched in one angry fist. Reality douses Kageyama in ice. He steps away from Hinata as fast as possible and doesn't miss the way it makes him flinch.

"Okay," Mai says, stopping just short of strangling distance and lifting her free hand to squeeze her temples. "You two are in, uh. Really big trouble."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr user [jean-bo-peep](http://jean-bo-peep.tumblr.com/) drew [some beautiful fanart for this chapter!!](http://jean-bo-peep.tumblr.com/post/140887411863/i-cant-stop-smiling-whenever-i-think-about-this) Check the next chapter for more! :D Ahhh!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a lot....of angst.........within this chapter, so consider yourself warned, but I promise it's a happy ending! Thank you for reading and thanks especially to the commenters, I hope you all enjoy the second half.
> 
> Just like the first chapter, I owe much to my wonderful betas/cheerleaders [reallycorking](http://reallycorking.tumblr.com) (whose amazing fanart can also be found within), [reeology](https://twitter.com/reeology), and [tailoredshirt](https://twitter.com/reeology)!! I probably wouldn't have managed to finish this thing without all the support, so thank you so sincerely. ♥ ♥ ♥

What Mai had been yelling after him as he left that morning, it turns out, was that she would be coming home from work early. She tells him this without a glimmer of sympathy, right before handing over her phone, his mother's name glaring at him from the screen. It's tortuous enough having to endure explaining himself to his mother while Mai listens on, her arms crossed in tangible disappointment, but Kageyama thinks it's worse, somehow, when Hinata's mother and sister come to pick him up. 

He can't really hear the lecture Hinata gets—he's stuck on the front step, only half-listening to his mother's tirade through the earpiece of Mai's phone—but he can see Hinata's head bowed in dejected misery, along with the way Hinata's sister clutches their mother's hand and glares accusingly across the yard at Kageyama.

At length, Hinata's mother waves her children into the car, then briefly stops to engage in a battle of mutual apologies with Mai before leaving. Hinata climbs into the front passenger seat and sits with his chin to his chest, never once looking out the window. Kageyama is fairly certain he can see tear tracks shining on his cheeks.

When they drive away, Kageyama's mother still hasn't finished her lecture, and Hinata still hasn't looked up.

"We didn't get to say goodbye," Kageyama mumbles to himself, unthinking. His mother continues on without notice, but Mai's expression slides from livid into something softer, more inquisitive. Kageyama turns quickly away.

By the end of the phone call with his mother, Kageyama has been grounded from anything other than schoolwork for the foreseeable future and left with the ultimatum that, if he's caught playing volleyball again before school starts, they'll take him off the team for good.

It's funny, then, that the concern hanging over him after he returns Mai's phone and retreats to his room is less about volleyball than about Hinata. He can't stop picturing the miserable expression on Hinata's face through the car window, and the idea that it might be the last time Kageyama ever sees him fills him with a deep, gnawing unease. But no matter what way he looks at it, he can't see a solution; no more volleyball means no more Hinata. 

Just as this thought occurs to him, Kageyama's phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out slowly, not exactly surprised to see Hinata's name on the screen but definitely surprised by the content of his message: nothing but a brief, _I'm sorry._

Kageyama flops back on his bed and frowns, keying a reply as fast as he can. _For what?_

Despite being long, Hinata's answer comes fast, like he already had something prepared. _It was all my idea. I made you take the bike when you didn't want to and you didn't even have a license. I just really wanted to play volleyball with you. It was stupid and selfish and I'm sorry_

 _You didn't make me do anything._ Kageyama wants to reassure Hinata further, but he doesn't know what else to say; he hits send and waits with his thumbs poised expectantly over the keypad. 

He waits a long time. After a few minutes, he sets his phone down on the bed, wondering if maybe that's the end of the conversation. He's not very used to interpreting these kinds of things. Just as he's starting to worry that Hinata is waiting for him to say something else, his phone buzzes again.

_Will you meet me tomorrow?_

Kageyama stares at the message for at least as long as he waited to receive it.

 _Yes,_ he thinks fervently, but he can't make himself type the word. His mother's ultimatum is ringing in his ears now—no more volleyball, ever. 

_I can't,_ he types at last, although it's a struggle to hit send. His heart is beating unusually fast, considering that all he's doing is texting.

Hinata doesn't respond again. After more than an hour of staring at his phone, Kageyama rolls over, exhausted and aching in ways he didn't know he could ache, and drifts into restless sleep.

 

Kageyama wakes up early, unable to turn his brain off. He struggles for a while in vain to fall back asleep, then gives up and stumbles downstairs to work blearily through the motions of a typical morning, grabbing cereal and milk and sitting at the chair near the back window to eat as he stares out toward the boardwalk. Mai comes down not long after him—it's her day off—but thankfully lets him be, pouring herself a cup of coffee and taking her usual seat at the table with a book. She does point out when Kageyama sits unmoving for so long that his cereal goes soggy, but he just dumps it down the sink before dragging himself upstairs to shower.

Kageyama can't figure out what to do with himself. He thinks about going running, but doesn't know if he could stop his feet from carrying him to their old volleyball court, and even if volleyball is no longer an option there, he has a sneaking suspicion he might stumble upon Hinata. Without exercise to distract him, Kageyama is at a loss, so he returns to the chair near the window and sits. Sometimes he dozes off, but usually he just stares at the beach.

By sometime around dinner, Mai appears to have reached the height of her patience. "Okay," she says out of nowhere, dropping her book loudly on the tabletop, causing Kageyama to jolt. "That's enough sulking for one day. Let's talk."

Kageyama works hard not to let his brow furrow too deeply. "I'm not sulking," he argues, even though he can hear the petulance in his own voice.

Mai raises an eyebrow at him, and Kageyama turns his gaze back out the window.

"The way I see it," Mai says, "you did a dumb teenager thing and you're sorry. You don't have to spend the rest of the summer atoning for it. You can still go outside and enjoy yourself while you're here." 

The wood on the windowsill is splintering. Kageyama starts to pick at it absently. "Mom says I'm grounded," he mumbles.

Out the corner of his eye, he can see Mai throwing her hands up in exasperation. "Well, your mother left me in charge of you for the summer, and I'm sure as hell not going to put up with you moping in front of that window until the end of August." 

Despite himself, Kageyama feels a tiny smile pull at the corner of his mouth. It disappears the moment Mai continues, in a somewhat gentler tone, "Why don't you call Shouyou?"

Kageyama's stomach lurches, and he accidentally tears off a sizeable sliver of wood from the windowsill. "I can't," he says, maybe too fast, turning to meet Mai's troubled gaze. "I don't—I can't see him anymore."

"Tobio—" Mai's face has taken on a new shade of concern, one Kageyama has never seen before. He wonders if he's giving her wrinkles. "You know you're not in trouble for making a friend, right?"

Kageyama doesn't understand the question. He frowns at her.

"You and Shouyou can still _do_ things," she elaborates, "you just can't play volleyball."

Kageyama straightens up in his seat. "I—" He feels stupid saying it, but can't help himself; he genuinely needs help finding the answer. "What else can we do?"

Mai's jaw drops, but no sound escapes for a long time.

"Anything," she says at last, lifting one hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Tobio, _anything_ —go swimming! Go to the aquarium! Join a badminton league if that's what you want—just—do something that's not volleyball for once in your life!"

It sounds easy when she says it, but the mere idea of calling Hinata or sending him a message asking if he wants to hang out makes Kageyama's throat tighten painfully. Of course, that's exactly what Hinata did just yesterday.

 _And you rejected him,_ Kageyama thinks, sitting bolt upright. His throat feels even tighter now.

"I'm—" he says, scrambling out of the chair, "—I have to—"

"Go," Mai says, sounding relieved.

He tears out the back door and turns left.

It takes him half as long as usual to reach the place that used to be their volleyball court. The sun is just beginning to dip low over the horizon as he jogs down the stairs, and with the trees gone, he reaches the bulldozer in no time. The construction workers aren't there, but the traces of their work that day are scattered across the sand: various shovels and clippers, several piles of cut-down trees and shrubs, plastic cones and netting, and of course, the volleyball poles. 

Hinata is nowhere to be seen.

Kageyama doesn't know why he had expected to find him here, really, but Hinata's absence strikes a small note of fear in his chest. He draws to an uneasy stop in the sand and struggles both to catch his breath and formulate a new plan. He knows where Hinata lives, but Hinata's mother had been furious yesterday; he can't imagine he'd be a welcome dinner guest. It takes a few minutes of frantic brainstorming before he remembers: Hinata has his own bedroom, with his own window. He turns and flies back up the stairs, hoping he'll be able to correctly identify which townhouse belongs to Hinata's family.

He wastes no time once he approaches the row of townhomes, running around back to where Hinata's window looks out over a small parking lot. At least, he's reasonably certain it's Hinata's window. He draws up beneath it, stops, and listens. The window is cracked, but there are no sounds escaping. There's a window on the main level, too, but luckily it's closed and the curtains are drawn. 

After a few seconds, Kageyama realizes he never bothered to consider what he would do once he got this far. Staring up at what is only maybe Hinata's window isn't doing any good, and if he waits much longer, the sun is going to set and some concerned neighbor is probably going to call the cops. He wipes his hands anxiously on his shorts, turns around, and starts scanning the ground for something to throw.

He passes over a number of rocks that look too dangerous before spotting a bed of red mulch encircling a tree. He picks up a few of the larger pieces, satisfied that they're dense enough to make noise but not so heavy they'll break glass, moves back under Hinata's window, and takes a deep breath.

His first throw makes perfect contact, right in the center of the glass pane where he was aiming. Arm still raised, he stops and waits, but nothing happens. 

"Hinata?" he tries, his voice barely louder than usual. Silence.

This time he throws two pieces of mulch at once, again with perfect aim. They bounce off the glass and fall back down very near Kageyama's head, but he just shields his face and says, a little louder this time, "Hinata?"

Everything stays quiet. Kageyama glances around nervously, especially cautious of the main floor window, but no one stirs.

"Shit," Kageyama grumbles. He goes back to the tree, scoops up an entire handful of mulch, and returns to his spot under the window for one last try. The mulch-bomb makes a satisfying _THUNK_ when it hits the glass.

"Hinata!" Kageyama's voice is as loud as he can get without yelling. Some of the mulch rains down into his hair, and he has to duck his head to brush it away. 

When he looks up again, Hinata is leaning out the window above him.

"Kageyama?" Hinata's cheeks are pink and his eyes are wide, and even though the whole purpose of coming here was to see him, the sight of his face still gets Kageyama momentarily breathless. 

Hinata speaks again, maybe because Kageyama can't seem to manage it. "What are you doing?"

"I—" Kageyama swallows, hands moving reflexively to twist in the fabric of his shorts. He can't stop watching Hinata watching him. He doesn't look angry, which is reassuring, but his expression isn't warm, exactly.

"I'm sorry." It comes easier than Kageyama was expecting, and he wonders if he looks as surprised by his own words as Hinata, whose eyebrows have shot up to his hairline. "For yesterday, I mean—for the text—I didn't mean. . . ." 

The words are getting away from him. Kageyama pauses, squeezes his eyes shut, and tries again. "I want to keep hanging out with you."

He doesn't dare open his eyes right away. They open on their own when, after a very heavy silence, Hinata _laughs._ Just once, and not, Kageyama thinks, unkindly, although he can't help flinching even so. 

"You came to my window to say that?" Hinata says. His tone is incredulous, but the dimpled smile he's giving Kageyama is undeniably fond; Kageyama can feel his grip on his shorts start to relax. "Why didn't you text me?"

Kageyama opens his mouth, then closes it and frowns. He hadn't thought of that.

Hinata seems to sense the answer. He laughs again, warmly, and no matter how hard Kageyama tries he can't make himself feel annoyed.

"I want to keep hanging out with you, too." Hinata lowers his voice, like he's saying something private, just for the two of them. A warm flush spreads up the back of Kageyama's neck.

"G-good," Kageyama stammers eventually.

There's an uncomfortable moment when Hinata says nothing, just continues dimpling down at him, and Kageyama wonders if he's supposed to do something else now. He's about resolved to bury his head in the pile of mulch when Hinata at last says, "So, are you gonna come inside?"

"Uh—" Kageyama's eyes flicker to the main floor window uncertainly. "Isn't your mom—kind of—pissed?"

"She's pissed at me, not you." Hinata is already pushing away from the windowsill and disappearing into his room. "I'll meet you at the front door!" he calls.

It does appear to be true that Hinata-san holds no resentment for Kageyama whatsoever. As soon he sees her, Kageyama bows in half at the waist and starts a jumbled apology, but Hinata's mother interrupts him before he can finish.

"Don't be silly," she says. "If I know Shouyou, he instigated it." From beside him, Hinata ducks his head and gives a guilty laugh. "I'm just sorry for your poor aunt. . . ."

Kageyama doesn't know what to say to that, so he bows his head again. The angle offers him a clear view of Natsu, who, glaring up at him from her hiding place behind her mother's calf, seems less convinced of Kageyama's innocence. He's pretty used to kids hating him, so Kageyama just averts his eyes and tries to ignore her. 

"Mom," Hinata says, "can Kageyama hang out here for a while?"

"Your aunt doesn't mind?" Hinata-san asks.

"She said it's okay, as long as we don't play volleyball," Kageyama answers honestly. 

"Good." Hinata-san's tone is firm, but there's warmth in it. "I don't know what I did to deserve an athlete. Natsu, no sports when you get older, okay?"

Natsu forgets glaring at Kageyama to turn panicked eyes up at her mother. "But I wanna play volleyball like Shouyou!"

"Of course you do." Hinata-san sighs, pats Natsu on the head, and waves the boys off. "That's fine, just keep it down after eight-thirty."

Kageyama bows one last time—Hinata snickers at him—and they finally escape to Hinata's room, the sound of Natsu begging for her bedtime to be pushed back following them up the stairs. Once they're inside and Hinata has closed the door, they face each other, Hinata beaming, Kageyama biting the inside of his cheek.

"What . . . should we do?" he asks, when he can no longer bear the quiet. He hopes Hinata has ideas, because he feels pushed beyond his limits already. 

"Hmm." Hinata scans the room briefly. "I dunno," he says, not sounding particularly bothered. "What do you want to do?"

It feels like there's a second question hiding underneath the main question. Kageyama's hands start to sweat, and he drops his eyes to the floor and shrugs, wishing for the hundredth time he were better at this.

"Oh," Hinata says, after a beat. "I have a DS! I only brought two games, though." He climbs onto his bed and grabs a small red console from the bedside table. When Kageyama doesn't move, Hinata looks up and smiles again, patting the space on the bed next to him. "Come on!"

Kageyama hesitates, then wipes his hands on his shorts and climbs on. Once they're both sitting with their backs against the wall and their sides barely touching, Hinata sets the DS in his lap. 

"You play and I'll watch," he says. 

Kageyama blinks at him. Is this a thing friends do? Before he can ask, Hinata is talking again.

"Pokémon or Smash Brothers?"

"I don't know," Kageyama says helplessly. At home, he only has a Wii with one game he never plays. 

Hinata looks at him skeptically for a few seconds. "Smash Brothers," he decides. "It's more like sports."

Kageyama nods and lets Hinata put in the cartridge and start up the game. Once it's begun, Hinata settles in even closer to his side, chin grazing his shoulder, and instructs him patiently on how to play. It's lucky he's patient, too, because Kageyama can't seem to focus on the screen; Hinata keeps laughing at him, breath tickling the side of his neck.

Still, even after an endless streak of Kageyama sucking, Hinata never once takes the game away or tells him to stop. Kageyama has never really liked video games, but eventually he has to admit he's having fun. The first time he KO's an opponent, Hinata whoops so loud his mother yells at them, and even then he won't stop cheering until Kageyama consents to a high-five. 

"See, it's just like volleyball! You just need practice," Hinata says after Kageyama wins his first full game.

"It's not like volleyball." Kageyama closes the DS and passes it back to Hinata. He turns his head, intending to say something else, but forgets his words promptly when he realizes how close Hinata's face is.

"I should go," Kageyama gasps, scrambling off the bed. Hinata, still sitting with his back against the wall, looks slightly hurt, and all at once Kageyama is incredibly frustrated with himself. What is _wrong_ with him?

He straightens up and tries very hard not to look like someone on the verge of a panic attack. "Thanks," he says, and then, in a rush, before he can change his mind, "—do you want to go swimming tomorrow?"

The hurt slides away from Hinata's face in an instant. "Yes!" 

"Great—I'll—text you," Kageyama says, embarrassed by the way this causes Hinata to break into a full-fledged grin. "Good night."

"Good night!" Hinata says cheerfully. 

When Kageyama gets home, his face is still burning, and Mai won't stop looking at him like she knows something. 

 

They meet after lunch the next day on the beach near their old volleyball court, out of force of habit. The sound of construction work is too loud to stay, so they wander a little farther south, stopping at last when they find a spot with only a few other swimmers around and a handful of trees offering shade.

"This is a good spot," Hinata says, ripping his shirt off not five seconds after they find it.

"Sure." Kageyama has been feeling weird ever since last night, like all his senses are vaguely out of focus. He frowns down at the sand, away from Hinata's back, and concentrates on slipping off his shoes. When he looks up, Hinata is squirting a considerable amount of sunscreen into his palm. 

"I keep burning," he explains, demonstrating impressive flexibility by reaching around himself to smear sunscreen across his own back. There's still a good amount left in his hands when he's finished; Hinata looks at them, then holds them out toward Kageyama. "Do you need some?"

"I'm fine," Kageyama says quickly. 

Hinata shrugs and wipes the rest onto his knees. Once he turns around, Kageyama notices a wide stripe of sunscreen standing out on his neck that he didn't rub in all the way.

"You missed a spot," Kageyama says, reaching out without thinking and pressing his palm to Hinata's neck. Hinata reacts instantly, leaning into Kageyama's touch and tilting his head to the side, totally pliant. Kageyama's stomach tangles into a knot. He isn't sure what Hinata's expecting, but he swipes his thumb up and down a few times to rub the white streak in, a little shakily. After a few seconds, the sunscreen is gone but his hand is still there, and Hinata is still tilting his head expectantly. Kageyama's palm feels like it's growing hotter and hotter.

Just as it's threatening to burn them both, Kageyama comes to his senses and drops his hand. Hinata turns his head slowly, blinking up at him with unfocused eyes.

"Thanks," he says.

Kageyama tries to speak but words have left him. He can feel his mouth hanging faintly open.

"Kageyama?"

Hinata leans in, but Kageyama sidesteps him and starts striding resolutely toward the beach. Something is _seriously_ wrong with him, he feels _crazy_ —he picks up the pace as Hinata lets out an indignant little _"Hey!"_ and hurries to catch up. Once he reaches the edge of the water, Kageyama takes none of his usual time easing into it. Instead, he wades right in to where it's chest-deep and immediately dunks his head under the waves.

"I thought you hated putting your head under?" 

Kageyama straightens up and sweeps wet bangs out of his eyes. Hinata is already beside him, struggling to hold his head above water that is closer to chin-deep than chest-deep in his case.

"I got hot," Kageyama says. 

Hinata looks unconvinced. "You're being weird."

Instead of arguing that, Kageyama shoves Hinata's head underwater and tries to escape while he's sputtering and spitting out mouthfuls of water. He doesn't get far.

"KAGEYAMA!" Hinata shouts a warning, just before launching onto Kageyama's back and dragging them both sideways into an incoming wave. 

It's easy to forget about weirdness when he and Hinata are wrestling and laughing and occasionally choking on saltwater and strings of seaweed. They cause enough of a ruckus that the few other nearby swimmers soon vacate the area, probably in search of a beach with fewer teenage boys on it, and then it's just them and the late afternoon sun.

"Okay, truce, truce!" Hinata cries, tilting his head to shake water out of his ear after Kageyama sends a particularly vicious splash his way. 

"I win," Kageyama says automatically.

Hinata glares and smacks his left ear, still trying to get water out of the right. "For now."

By now they've veered into deeper water, both of them treading circles, and Kageyama's legs are starting to get tired. 

"Let's go in," he says, but Hinata cuts him off: "Let's _float."_

Hinata flips easily onto his back and starts bobbing on top of the waves, fluid and natural; it reminds Kageyama of a documentary he once saw about sea otters. He keeps treading water uncertainly.

"I don't—" he starts, but trails off upon realizing Hinata's ears are underwater and he probably can't hear anything. 

It can't be too hard, he supposes. He leans his head back, wills his legs upward, and . . . immediately starts to sink. 

After two more similarly unsuccessful attempts, Kageyama curses loudly and Hinata lifts his head. 

"What are you—" Hinata rolls over and returns to treading water, a slow smile stealing over his face. "You don't know how to _float?"_

"I'm going back," Kageyama snaps, turning toward the beach.

"No, no—Kageyama, wait!" 

Hinata is laughing. Kageyama tries to out-swim him, but he catches up just as they reach the waist-deep water. He grabs Kageyama around the middle and holds tight, and Kageyama abruptly stops.

"Don't," Hinata says, still laughing. "Stop. I'll teach you!"

"I don't need to learn how to _float,"_ Kageyama says, trying to inject as much disdain into the last word as possible. It's hard, though, to speak very forcefully with Hinata hugging him like that. The weirdness has returned in a hurry.

"You need to learn how to float more than like, anybody I've ever met," Hinata says.

Before Kageyama can work out a retort, Hinata's hands loosen around his waist and withdraw to his shoulders. He gives them a gentle pull, and Kageyama finds himself following easily, letting himself be guided back and down. His knees buckle and all at once he's on his back in the water. He kicks and sputters at first, but Hinata's hands slip under his armpits to support him, and after a moment he goes still.

"Relax!" Hinata says. "I taught my sister how to do this when she was two." He starts walking backwards, into slightly deeper water, pulling Kageyama along with him.

"Great." Kageyama isn't thrilled about being compared to a toddler, but he's too distracted to argue about it.

They reach a point where the water is Hinata's-chest-deep before finally stopping. " _Relax,"_ Hinata says again. "You're trying too hard to keep your head up. You need to lean back more."

One of Hinata's hands slips out from under Kageyama's arm, up his neck to the base of his skull. Kageyama hadn't even realized he was straining so hard to support the weight of his head until he lets go and allows Hinata to cradle it; he can feel the heaviness fade, the taut line running from his neck all the way down his legs slowly release.

And just like that, the water lifts him. It's not Hinata supporting him anymore, although his hands are still there, too, but the water itself. Kageyama blinks, surprised, and the hand at the base of his skull squeezes once.

It's hard to make out Hinata's exact words with the waves lapping at his ears, but Kageyama is fairly certain he hears, "There you go." 

It feels good. Still weird, but good. Kageyama closes his eyes and listens to the underwater sounds, waves breaking and his own heart pounding. Hinata starts walking again, very slowly, guiding him with a gentle pull to his arm and neck, and it's all fuzzy and unfamiliar but also peaceful, like a good dream.

Kageyama loses sense of time. Maybe he floats for a minute, or maybe it's ten—all he knows is, when he opens his eyes, the sun is too bright above Hinata's shoulders. It haloes him, makes him glow, but at the same time the edges of his silhouette are a blur. Kageyama has to squint to make out his features. The only thing he can tell for sure is that Hinata is smiling.

Kageyama thinks, _I could kiss you._

He inhales sharply, sucking in an enormous mouthful of seawater. Hinata's hands let go as Kageyama twists away, choking, staggering to his feet and pushing the hair out of his eyes.

"What happened?" Hinata asks, slapping Kageyama un-helpfully on the back. "You were doing so well!"

"I—don't know," Kageyama says, still gasping for breath, but his heart only beats faster with the lie.

 

He has a crush on Hinata.

Kageyama is reasonably sure that's what it should be called, although the word feels inadequate, only scraping the surface of this thing that he now realizes has been slowly swallowing him since the first week they met on the beach, maybe the first day. He's never had a crush before, so he can't say what's normal, but it makes sense that for him it all feels too sharp, too intense; of course he wouldn't be able to do even this like a normal person.

The sensible thing to do would be to start avoiding him. Kageyama knows it—it can't be a good idea to keep meeting Hinata now, there are a hundred reasons why he shouldn't. But he texts him anyway, that night and the next morning and the morning after that, and Hinata always texts back, and he can never make himself say no when Hinata suggests they meet. Sometimes he's even the first one to suggest it, despite the way it makes his stomach twist.

It happens like that for more than a week. Most days they just swim, but sometimes they walk, exploring downtown, the harbor, a few unremarkable shrines. Hinata never stops smiling and Kageyama can't stop watching him. He wishes knowing why he's acting crazy made it any easier, but it's had almost the opposite effect—now, on top of feeling weird, he feels guilty too, more so every time Hinata flashes him a trusting grin or touches his shoulder.

At the end of the week, on an especially muggy Sunday night, Hinata convinces him to meet for a fireworks festival.

"We can't not do a single festival while we're here!" Hinata insists, leading the way up a hill he insists will offer the best view in town. 

"We're not even at the festival. It's forty minutes away," Kageyama points out, but they both know his protests mean absolutely nothing. Hinata doesn't even show signs of hearing him speak.

"Here!" Hinata drops down at the base of a tree and immediately relaxes with his back against the trunk. "Look! You can see a Ferris wheel!"

Kageyama catches himself smiling at the back of Hinata's head and has to quickly work it into a neutral expression when Hinata turns to look for him. 

"I thought you'd be going to the actual festival." Kageyama takes a seat at Hinata's side, a little ashamed at himself for consciously letting their legs touch. Their skin is sticky from the humid air, but Hinata doesn't move away.

"My mom and Natsu went," Hinata says, "but. . . ." 

He trails off, and Kageyama looks at him curiously. 

"Oh," Hinata says, interrupting himself. "I brought food!"

He sets his bag on his lap and opens it, proudly showing off the contents. There's handmade onigiri, bottles of tea, pre-cut pieces of watermelon, and a little plastic container full of fried chicken.

"Don't worry, I didn't make it," Hinata says as he hands Kageyama a pair of chopsticks. "My mom said we had to at least have a real dinner if we didn't go to the festival."

"Thanks." Kageyama takes the chopsticks and tries to focus on his food rather than the side of Hinata's face as they eat. It's getting darker, and there's not much light at the top of the hill, but still Hinata seems to maintain a glow. Maybe his skin is reflecting the city lights.

Hinata turns and meets his eyes, and Kageyama realizes with a hasty swallow of tea that he hasn't been doing a very good job of not staring. He pretends to have a coughing fit so he has an excuse to look away.

"You sure choke on stuff a lot." Hinata dumps his leftover food scraps into the bag, scoots down a little ways, and flops flat on his back. "When do fireworks start?"

Kageyama, busy frowning at the choking comment, takes a few moments to stuff his own trash into the bag before cautiously lying down in the grass to Hinata's right. "I dunno," he says. "Once it gets really dark, I guess."

Even though he's lying flat, his face turned to the sky, he knows immediately when Hinata rolls onto his side toward him.

"Did you wanna go to the festival?" Hinata wonders.

The way he asks the question makes Kageyama hesitate; it feels like there's a right and a wrong answer. "I'd rather be here," he says eventually.

He must have said the right thing. Beside him, Hinata hums happily and inches closer. "Me too," he says. "Actually—" He waits a beat, and Kageyama holds his breath. "Actually, I didn't go with Mom and Natsu because I wanted to hang out with you."

Kageyama can't move right away. When he finally forces his head to turn, the movement feels stiff and awkward. Hinata is waiting for him, and Kageyama sees, with a start, there's no hint of a smile in his expression. His eyes are intent, dark and serious; Kageyama has absolutely no idea what to do with his own face.

"Oh," Kageyama says. His voice cracks.

Hinata's eyes are serious, but his movements are nervous. Maybe unknowingly, he's started rubbing his wrist, and Kageyama latches onto that, the only thing he currently feels capable of handling.

"Is—is your wrist still bothering you?" He's trying to make things better, to do something that will make the moment pass more smoothly, but without thinking he reaches out to take Hinata's hand. Hinata exhales sharply and lets his hand be pulled in, moving with it, now even closer. Their foreheads can't be more than five centimeters apart.

Every muscle in Kageyama's body is tensed for retreat. He has to force himself to focus on Hinata's wrist, testing its flexibility, bending the hand first back, then forward. 

"It doesn't hurt?" Kageyama's voice is rough but he pretends not to notice, and thankfully, Hinata does him the same favor.

"It doesn't hurt," Hinata confirms. Kageyama can feel his breath on his cheeks.

"You should probably still be icing it," Kageyama says, even though truthfully he can't find anything wrong with the flexibility.

"Okay." Hinata agrees easily, and there's nothing left for it; Kageyama releases his hand.

Neither of them moves away. Kageyama doesn't look up, but he can _feel_ Hinata waiting for him, the weight of expectation a heavy, physical presence hovering between them. 

_Kiss him,_ Kageyama thinks. Still, he can't move except to close his eyes. 

A few seconds pass. Hinata moves, impossibly, and Kageyama feels the presence of a hand hovering close to his jaw.

"Kage—" Hinata starts. 

Kageyama's phone buzzes in his pocket. They jump apart, and Kageyama chances one apologetic glance in Hinata's direction before reaching down to unearth the phone from his shorts. But Hinata has already rolled away with a moan, onto his back again, scrubbing his face in his hands. It's impossible to see what kind of expression he's wearing.

He's expecting a text from Mai, or maybe his mother, because other than Hinata, no one else ever messages him. It takes Kageyama a moment, then, to comprehend the alert making him squint at the glow of his screen.

_Event: Fly home 1 week_

It doesn't make sense at first. Kageyama furrows his brow, trying to figure out who set it before remembering: he did. A month ago, when all he could think about was getting back to Tentou and his team. Before Hinata.

"Who is it?" Hinata sounds annoyed, but when Kageyama turns troubled eyes toward him he softens in an instant. "Kageyama?" He shifts close again, frowning.

"No one." Kageyama realizes suddenly that he wants nothing less than to have this conversation in this moment. He tries to stuff his phone away but Hinata is too fast for him, catching his hand before he can get it in his pocket.

"Kageyama!" Hinata wrenches the phone out of his hands and Kageyama is powerless to do anything but make a vague unhappy sound as he rolls away with it. He watches Hinata's back as it goes rigid, and then as Hinata sits up fast, still staring down at the phone clutched in his hands.

"What is this?"

Kageyama doesn't know what to say, since he's fairly sure Hinata already knows the answer to that question. "Hinata," he tries.

"A week?" Hinata whirls on him, his face screwed up horribly. Kageyama has never seen him look so angry. "But—school doesn't even start until—we have two weeks!"

"I'm starting practice again," Kageyama manages, although he's having a hard time wrapping his head around this fact, too. "It's when I said I'd be back."

Hinata looks at Kageyama like he just struck him. "No," he says, dropping Kageyama's phone to the ground between them. For a second, it seems like Hinata is going to cry, but then, just as quickly, his anger returns. 

"Don't go back," he says, voice fierce.

"Don't be stupid." Kageyama sits up and gropes for the phone, turning his face away, struggling against the painful tightness climbing up his chest. "We both have to go back."

Hinata is getting to his feet now, and even though Kageyama can't make himself look at him directly, he can feel anger radiating off him in waves. 

"You should move back to Miyagi," Hinata says. "You should come to Karasuno."

"Hinata." Kageyama is absolutely suffocating. He doesn't understand how the evening took such a horrible turn, but he feels sick. It takes every ounce of his strength to force out, "I _can't—"_

Hinata isn't appeased. "They don't _know—"_ he starts, but he's obviously having trouble working out words, too. He falters. "They don't even _want_ you!"

Now Kageyama is the one who feels like he's been struck. "Shut up," he says. His voice comes out surprisingly quiet.

At that precise moment, as if reacting to Hinata's explosive anger and the heat building in Kageyama's chest, the fireworks start to go off. It's a jarring, unwelcome sound, and the light from them reflects off Hinata's face. Kageyama can see tear tracks shining on his cheeks. 

"Fuck," Hinata sobs. He turns away, bending to grab his bag, and Kageyama scrambles to his feet. 

"Hinata," he says, reaching for his shoulder.

 _"Don't,"_ Hinata says, jerking out of Kageyama's reach. And then he's running, faster than Kageyama could manage even if he wanted to catch up, down the hill and into the dark.

The fireworks last half an hour. Kageyama stands in place the entire time, face turned toward the bottom of the hill, and doesn't watch a single one.

 

He doesn't text Hinata. It's better this way, he reminds himself on Monday morning, after he wakes up and can't remember at first why he's aching so much, why the simple task of climbing out of bed feels insurmountable. It's better this way, even if Hinata _did_ maybe want to kiss Kageyama as much as Kageyama wanted to kiss him, because Hinata got upset for a reason: they're never going to see each other anymore. Tentou is over three hours by train from Karasuno—Kageyama knows because he looked it up on his phone after he got home from the fireworks and couldn't fall asleep. 

He keeps trying to remind himself of the same thing the next morning, and the morning after that, but somehow, it doesn't make climbing out of bed any easier. Mai has work, so she's only home so many hours in a day, but there's no hiding Kageyama's sudden lethargy. He fakes a sore throat and uses the guise of a flu as an excuse to hole up in his room anytime he's not showering or eating.

What makes it even harder is that, some mornings, Kageyama doesn't think three hours really sounds all that far. He pulls up the map between Tentou and Karasuno and traces over the train connections more times than he'd ever admit, memorizing the major stations between them. If they met halfway, it would only be an hour and a half each. 

But Hinata's words keep coming back to him, the tone of his voice when he said _"Don't."_ He didn't want Kageyama to follow him then and he doesn't want him to track him down now. Kageyama doesn't even know that Hinata did want to kiss before, not really. 

_Stop,_ Kageyama tells himself. He tosses his phone to the floor and buries his face in his pillow and tells himself the same thing over and over: _Just stop._

Mai finds him like that when she gets home from work on Wednesday.

"Tobio?" She knocks before coming in, which Kageyama appreciates, even if he doesn't move or otherwise acknowledge her. After waiting just long enough that it becomes clear she's not going to get an answer, Mai enters and takes a seat on the edge of his bed. 

"Hi. Still feeling crappy?" She pushes his bangs away from his forehead to get a temperature, and Kageyama wills himself to feel hot.

"Mm." 

Mai's hand stays in place for a few seconds, then withdraws. For a while, she doesn't say anything. Kageyama wonders if he's done a convincing enough job of making it seem like he's fallen asleep. Then her hand is back, this time resting between his shoulder blades.

"Tobio," she says. "Did something happen with Shouyou?"

He waits for a few wild heartbeats to pass, then rolls onto his side. "Why—" he starts. Mai gives him a look.

Kageyama shuts his eyes again. He feels dangerously on the verge of tears, and that's _ridiculous,_ he absolutely isn't going to cry in front of his aunt, so he stays quiet.

"I don't know what happened," Mai says, slowly, "but I'm sure, if you talked to him—"

"I can't." The words are drawn tight, strained.

Mai breathes a deep sigh, then squeezes his shoulder. "I see," she says. "I'm sorry."

They stay like that for a bit longer, Kageyama absurdly grateful when she doesn't push him to talk more. Eventually, Mai stands, and Kageyama is able to open his eyes again.

"You should get some air, at least," she says. "Come on a walk with me?"

He surprises himself by agreeing. He tells himself it's just to appease Mai, but by the end of the walk, the ocean air does make him feel a little better.

 

Saturday comes slowly. In the morning, Mai takes him into town to buy some last-minute souvenirs for his parents, and when they get back they go for another walk on the beach, but by late afternoon Kageyama is itching to be alone. He uses packing as his excuse to disappear to his room, but once he gets there all he can do is lie in bed and stare at his phone. When he finally drags out his suitcase and starts filling it with clothes, the sun is just starting to dip low in the sky outside his window, and cooking smells are just starting to waft up from the kitchen.

"Tobio?" Mai calls. 

Kageyama pauses in folding up a t-shirt and calls back, "Yeah?" It seems too soon for dinner to be ready.

There's a long silence, followed by, "I think Shouyou is here."

His feet feel leaden as he stands and, numbly, makes his way down the stairs. Mai is standing at the stove in the kitchen, but her gaze is directed out the tall living room window. Kageyama can just spot a flash of red hair, tilted back; Hinata is looking up, maybe trying to work out which window is Kageyama's. 

Kageyama tries to say something, but his throat closes, swallows up speech. He turns toward Mai and is surprised to find her smiling.

She waves toward the window. "I'll save you some dinner."

He uses the back door. Hinata doesn't see him immediately when he steps around the side of the house, so Kageyama has time to take him in. He's wearing an oversized dark hoodie— _my hoodie,_ Kageyama registers slowly, only now remembering Hinata never returned it—and his hands are balled into fists as he scans the second floor of the house. It's only when he lifts one of them, gearing up to throw, that Kageyama realizes he carried handfuls of mulch all the way here.

"That's my aunt's room," Kageyama says. Hinata yelps and jumps back, dropping the mulch and immediately hiding his hands behind his back.

"Oh." Hinata casts his eyes down at the sand, frowning. He looks a little nervous and a little frustrated and a little guilty. Kageyama has to work hard not to run over to him.

Once it becomes obvious that Hinata isn't going to say more, Kageyama clears his throat and asks, "What are you doing here?"

Hinata scuffs his foot on the ground and stuffs hands into his— _Kageyama's_ —sweatshirt pockets. "I wanted to talk to you," he says.

Kageyama can't help but ask, with just a hint of sarcasm, "Why didn't you text me?"

Hinata looks up sharply, like he can't tell if Kageyama is making a joke or not. Kageyama isn't entirely sure, either, but either way, Hinata sounds serious when he responds, "I wanted to see you in person."

His cheeks heating, Kageyama glances sideways at the living room window, suddenly conscious of the fact that Mai can see them both right now.

"Do you want to go to the beach?" he asks.

"Yes," Hinata answers easily.

They walk side-by-side, not talking, down the boardwalk and past the old volleyball court, which you might never know had been there; all that's left is a few tree stumps, even the bulldozer gone now. Kageyama manages to only occasionally steal glimpses of Hinata hunched in his sweatshirt as they walk. It's too warm for sweatshirts, even with the sun sinking lower and lower over the horizon, but Hinata doesn't even roll up the sleeves. By the time they reach the place where they usually swim, Kageyama can see sweat standing out on his temples.

"This is a good spot," Hinata says, echoing himself so many days ago. Kageyama nods. 

They sit, not under the trees, since there's no need for shade, but a ways down, closer to the water. Hinata kicks off his shoes and buries his feet in the sand immediately. Kageyama, struggling to figure out what to do with himself, imitates him.

"Kageyama," Hinata says. He's brought up his arms to rest on his knees now, and his mouth is mostly hidden by his sleeve, but still, his voice comes out surprisingly clear when he says, "I'm really, really sorry."

"It's—" Kageyama starts, but he's no sooner spoken than he freezes, shell-shocked, because Hinata has started to cry.

"I was so _mean,"_ Hinata whimpers, in between sobs. "I didn't mean to say that stuff about your team—I just—" He breaks off, wiping his sleeves over his eyes and sniffing loudly. "I was upset. I didn't want to say goodbye."

Apologizing isn't something that comes naturally to Kageyama, but accepting apologies, he's rapidly realizing, isn't really his strength either. He can't remember the last time someone had cause to apologize to him in earnest, and now Hinata is _crying_ because he's so sorry, and Kageyama's stomach hurts, and he has no idea what to do.

"Hey," he says, "don't—it's okay, Hinata."

Kageyama reaches out and touches Hinata's shoulder, gingerly, but jerks his hands back when Hinata whirls on him.

"It's _not_ okay," Hinata says, fierce even now, with his nose running and his eyes streaming. His voice breaks when he finishes, "I wasted our whole last week together." 

He only barely gets through the last few words before collapsing into sobs again. Kageyama sits, hands still raised in the air between them, and wills himself desperately to react.

 _Just say something,_ he thinks, with growing panic, _Just tell him—_

But he's exhausted with grappling with speech. Instead, he moves, pulling Hinata in by the shoulders, ignoring the way his own heart jumps frantically when he hugs him close. Hinata makes a surprised, half-gasping, half-hiccupping sound, but he doesn't try to get away. After a moment, his hands lift to clutch at Kageyama's shoulder blades, and he buries his face against Kageyama's neck, wet cheeks streaking tears and probably snot across his skin. It makes Kageyama want to hold him tighter.

"You're the only reason this whole summer wasn't a waste," Kageyama tells him, his mouth pressed to Hinata's hair. He surprises himself a little with the words, but maybe the secret to finding the right thing to say is not thinking about it.

"Kageyama," Hinata says, muffled, close to Kageyama's collarbone. His fingers dig deeper into Kageyama's shoulders.

They stay like that for a long time, Kageyama occasionally daring to pet Hinata's hair when he sniffs or hiccups. Unbidden, the memory of the first time Hinata hugged him comes to Kageyama, at the sand court after their first successful nighttime spike, and how he had shoved him away. It feels like a hundred years ago.

"Kageyama," Hinata says, startling Kageyama out of the memory. Kageyama pulls back—not far enough to break apart, just enough to meet his eyes—and Hinata wipes his nose on his sleeve and smiles weakly.

"I think I got snot on your sweatshirt."

It hurts physically, how much Kageyama wants to kiss him in that moment. _Don't ruin it,_ he thinks. "You can keep it," he says, voice as weak as Hinata's smile.

Hinata's eyes brighten a bit, although they're still red and puffy. "Really?"

Kageyama nods. This obviously delights Hinata; he tugs happily on the hood drawstrings, and it feels like a tug directly to Kageyama's heart. He leans in without thinking, but before Hinata has time to notice, he's speaking again.

"I was just jealous, when I said that stuff about your team." He pauses to wipe his nose once more before adding, " _I_ want to play with you. They don't deserve it."

Kageyama swallows, thickly, and shifts, finally dropping his arms, putting the barest of distances between them. 

"We still could," he says, cautious but somehow emboldened by Hinata's hopeful eyes, still wet with tears. "Play together, I mean. Sometimes. Maybe on the weekends."

He hadn't realized how terrified he was of having the idea rejected until Hinata sits up and stares at him, disbelieving.

"There's a pretty big gym in Shinjou," Kageyama plows on, unable to stop now, "near the station, between Tentou and Karasuno. We could—meet there—only sometimes, if you're not too busy, it doesn't have to be every weekend. . . ."

Hinata hasn't stopped staring at him the entire time. Kageyama trails off, unsure of what to read in his expression.

"Do you mean it?" Hinata asks quietly.

Kageyama doesn't even hesitate. He nods.

"Show me," Hinata says. 

They have to use Hinata's phone, since Kageyama didn't bring his. The sun sets at some point while they're tracing over the train routes, Kageyama being careful not to make it obvious that he has every stop and alternate line memorized.

"An hour and a half isn't bad!" Hinata pulls up his hood—there's a breeze coming off the water that, now that it's growing dark, is a little chilly—and Kageyama risks resting eyes on him. The illumination of the screen makes his cheeks look especially pink, his freckles almost purple. There's a lock of hair sticking out from the hood at a ridiculous angle, begging to be tucked in again. Kageyama's fingers curl in the sand.

"Can we meet the first weekend after I get back?" Hinata blinks up at him, all pink and purple and glowing, sheepish. 

"Yes," Kageyama rasps.

He must look as transfixed as he feels. Hinata's expression shifts, not sheepish anymore but serious; it reminds Kageyama of the night they went to watch fireworks, right before everything went wrong.

"Kageyama?" Hinata closes his phone, leans almost imperceptibly closer.

 _Don't ruin it,_ Kageyama reminds himself, desperately. 

He shifts, turning his shoulder to Hinata, and faces the ocean. "Just—call me when you get back, and we can figure out a time."

Hinata wilts beside him. Kageyama can feel it, even without seeing it; he clenches his jaw and winces at the twist in his gut.

"Okay," Hinata says, dully. After another moment's pause, he slowly stands, brushing sand off the cuffs of his sleeves and averting his eyes just as Kageyama finally finds the strength to look up. "Well. I guess that's it."

"Yeah," Kageyama says. He can barely scrape the word out, his throat is throbbing so hard.

"Goodbye, Kageyama," Hinata says. He meets Kageyama's eyes at last and offers him a warm, if a little sad, smile. 

Then he turns, and takes a step, and Kageyama's hand shoots out to catch his sleeve before he can stop himself.

"Wait," he says, hoarse. 

Hinata obeys, stopping in his tracks and facing Kageyama fully, his eyes wide.

"I—" Kageyama's heart is racing and his head is pounding, but he knows he has to talk now, the words _have_ to work for him this time. "You said, before," he tries, ignoring the tremor in his voice, "that you're a better player when you're with me. But I—" he pauses, sucks in a breath, and thinks, one last time: _Don't ruin it._

"I'm a better person when I'm with you."

He can hear Hinata's breath catch. His own lungs have stopped working entirely; he wishes it were enough to make him pass out, but he remains stubbornly conscious, unable to do anything but watch as Hinata's cheeks flush with color and his mouth falls open.

"Kageyama," Hinata says, hardly a whisper. And then he collapses forward, right into the sand in front of Kageyama's lap, and Kageyama doesn't waste any more time. Ignoring the way his palms are sweating, he pushes Hinata's hood back, catches his face in his hands, and kisses him.

For the first few, uncertain seconds, it's just a press of lips against lips. Even that would be enough, Kageyama thinks—just touching Hinata like this, realizing he _wants_ to be touched like this, would be enough—but it doesn't take long until Hinata is moving, whimpering with impatience as he climbs into Kageyama's lap and pushes him to the ground. Kageyama lets himself fall, hard, ignoring the cloud of sand that gets sent up around them to wrap arms tightly around Hinata's back.

"Kageyama," Hinata says again. He nudges at his mouth and Kageyama shivers, surrendering easily, parting his lips and hissing at the hot breath that ghosts across them just before Hinata draws his own breath right out of him. One of Kageyama's hands slides up above his head into the sand and he grabs a tighter fistful of Hinata's shirt with the other, clutching at him, pulling him close, trying not to moan too obviously at the first swipe of tongue over his teeth.

"Ah," Hinata gasps, maybe in response to Kageyama's moan, " _God,_ Kageyama. . . ." His hands are restless, roving over Kageyama's face and neck, sometimes pausing to frame his jaw as he kisses him.

"I thought," Hinata murmurs, in between nuzzling at Kageyama's mouth, brushing his lips with shaking fingers, "—I thought you weren't going to—I thought you didn't—"

The idea that Hinata was waiting for him—that Kageyama was actually almost so stupid he let this slip away because he was _scared_ —is too much to bear.

"Sorry," Kageyama says, "I'm sorry—" He pulls Hinata's head in close, cradling it, kissing his neck in apology. 

"I thought it was just me," Hinata continues, even as he tilts his head, offering up more of his neck to Kageyama's kissing. "I—ah—I was going to—at the fireworks, even before that I wanted to, but you didn't—"

"I'm sorry," Kageyama says again, into the curve of Hinata's throat. "I was so stupid, I'm sorry—"

Hinata huffs, maybe in agreement with the "stupid" comment, but when he finds Kageyama's mouth again his kiss is forgiving. 

"We were both stupid," Hinata murmurs against his lips. "We could have—the whole summer, God—" His voice breaks a little, dangerously close to a sob again, and he pulls back, forehead wrinkling. "Kageyama, what are we going to do?"

Something unfamiliar settles over Kageyama, a sense of purpose he doesn't usually experience unless volleyball is involved. He rolls them over so he can look down seriously at Hinata, propping himself up on his elbows. One of his hands settles on Hinata's chest and Hinata catches it without question.

"I'll come see you every weekend," Kageyama says. "Even if you can't meet halfway, I'll come. All the way to Karasuno if you want."

"Don't be stupid," Hinata says, even though his eyes are shining, the wrinkles disappearing from his forehead. "It's three hours—anyway, I'll always meet you. Every weekend. Even if you tell me not to come."

"I'll never tell you not to come." He's immediately embarrassed at his own boldness, but Hinata, far from mocking him, sighs and squeezes his hand tighter. 

_He likes when you talk like that,_ Kageyama realizes, filing it away.

"I wanna see you every day," Hinata says softly. 

"We can text." Kageyama is grasping now, searching for whatever it'll take to keep Hinata looking at him like that.

"Every day?" Hinata's free hand goes to Kageyama's hair and he pushes the bangs out of his face. "You're actually gonna reply every time?"

"I'll reply," Kageyama says. He leans into Hinata's touch, struggling not to close his eyes and drift off, it feels so good.

"What about talking? Will you call me?"

Kageyama hates the phone. "Whatever you want," he says, and means it.

Hinata's fingers trail through Kageyama's hair a little longer, and then his hand drifts lower, resting at last on Kageyama's cheek.

They move at the same time, in for another kiss. Neither of them says a word, but in silent agreement they go slow, a departure from their earlier kissing, which was feverish, close to desperate. Hinata sucks Kageyama's bottom lip into his mouth, and Kageyama imitates him with the top; when they finally open their mouths, Kageyama has to inhale sharply, a thrill shooting down his spine when he feels and hears Hinata do the same. Hinata's hands drag him in, tangling in his hair, tracing across his jaw and up the back of his neck until Kageyama can hardly stand it. He's out of his mind with how much he wants this—he didn't even know you could keep wanting something so bad after you got it.

[](http://56.media.tumblr.com/4221b57aa563d7b50c8a3b66ef7f4cb5/tumblr_nwnd1bwZyz1qbvlpfo1_1280.jpg)

Kageyama shifts, pushing forward, and Hinata makes a noise against his mouth. Maybe it's too much—Kageyama starts to pull back, but is immediately halted by the hand on his neck.

"Kageyama." Hinata sounds admonishing. 

He opens his eyes to find Hinata's gaze already fixed on him, and he hovers there for a moment, trapped, before surging back in. He doesn't know how far he's allowed to push but Hinata is nothing but encouraging, fingers digging into Kageyama's scalp as Kageyama cautiously licks into his mouth. And Hinata keeps anticipating him, meeting him before he's even finished taking the next step, before Kageyama even knows what he's doing—Hinata's tongue is already there, teasing back against his, dragging a groan out of Kageyama's throat. 

"Mmm." Hinata hums like he's answering Kageyama's groan, and he tilts his head so their mouths fit together more easily. It's so easy to follow him, easy to let himself stop thinking and just move; Kageyama doesn't know when his eyes fell closed again, has no idea when he lowered a hand to Hinata's waist to pull him even closer, but Hinata's hand covers his and holds it there, and the tenderness of that gesture unravels him. 

_We're good together,_ Kageyama thinks.

Hinata exhales through his nose, softly, like a sigh, like he _heard_ Kageyama think it. It feels revelatory. Kageyama pushes forward again, deeper, confident now, and he has to sigh too when Hinata pushes back, fingers curling and uncurling against the nape of his neck. 

It's perfect. Kageyama never even wanted to kiss another person before, but he _knows_ what he's found: this is it, as good as it gets. And then he has to take a break, turning his face to the side and exhaling shakily against the corner of Hinata's mouth, because when you realize you want to keep kissing someone every day possibly forever, it's difficult to come to terms with the knowledge that you can't.

Maybe Hinata understands. He doesn't say anything when Kageyama breaks the kiss, just starts stroking his hair again, and Kageyama lets himself stay there for a long time, cheek resting against Hinata's, struggling quietly to work out a way to stop morning from coming.

"I still think you should come back to Miyagi." Hinata's voice is quiet—maybe he's worried Kageyama will get annoyed at him for bringing it up again, but instead, Kageyama just aches. No one has ever wanted him like this before. No one has ever fought so hard to stay in his presence.

"My family moved to Yamagata for me," Kageyama says. He's never told anyone this, but of course it just tumbles out of him for Hinata. "To find a team that would take me."

Hinata's fingers still against his scalp. Kageyama lifts his head and has no trouble meeting his eye.

"I can't leave," he says. "But—maybe I can fix it."

There's a pause, and then Hinata offers him a trembling little smile. "You can fix it."

Kageyama kisses him again, softly. Hinata is the one to break away this time, but only so he can push Kageyama back to the sand and arrange himself around him, winding their legs together and pillowing his head on Kageyama's shoulder.

 _"Hug_ me," he says, irritably, after Kageyama takes a second too long to respond. Kageyama can't even scoff. He wraps the arm that's not trapped under Hinata's side around him, pulling him close, and Hinata makes an approving noise.

"We're gonna get really good if we practice together every weekend." Hinata rests his chin on Kageyama's chest and smiles up at him, and Kageyama has to remind himself it's probably rude to kiss someone in the middle of a sentence. "So they'll have to put us on the regulars."

"Yeah." Kageyama isn't even agreeing just to humor him—it's easy to believe anything Hinata says when he's looking at him like that.

"And then I'm gonna beat you."

Now Kageyama does scoff, although he's smiling too. "Not if—"

He doesn't get a chance to finish. The sand above them starts vibrating, Hinata's phone chiming with an incoming call. Hinata twists up and back, fingers curling into the fabric of Kageyama's shirt, staring at the phone in horror but making no move to grab it. 

"It's my mom," he says. 

Kageyama can't speak. He watches as the phone shudders and goes silent. After a few seconds, it buzzes once more with a new message.

Hinata whirls back to him. "I wanna stay with you tonight," he says, his voice fierce, his hands unsteady as they seek out Kageyama's. "I—can't we just stay here? Can't we—"

The look on Hinata's face is unendurable. Kageyama strains for a solution, latching on desperately to the only thing he can come up with.

"Tell her you're spending the night at my place," he says. He's reasonably sure of himself when he adds, "I think my aunt might cover for us."

The mood had been lifting, but it's sober again now, both having just realized exactly how few hours they have left. Hinata nods and sits up, and Kageyama reads over his shoulder as he keys a fast message to his mother.

 _Phone at 1%_ , it says, even though it's far from true. _Can I stay at Kageyama's? It's his last night. Be back early tomorrow. You can call his aunt if you want_

Kageyama recites Mai's number for him, and Hinata sends that too, just before closing his phone and pressing the power button. 

"I'm staying no matter what she says," Hinata explains, defiant, when Kageyama lifts his eyebrows.

The hollow ache in Kageyama's chest is back. He just nods, and after a beat they fall together, back to the sand, embracing even more tightly than before. Kageyama breathes Hinata in, trying to memorize him: he smells like sunscreen and saltwater and sweat, and that combination feels somehow more precious with the realization that he probably doesn't usually smell like this—this belongs to his Hinata in particular, the Hinata Kageyama got to himself just for the summer. 

"What time is your flight tomorrow?" Hinata asks after a little while. 

Kageyama has to swallow before he can answer. "We have to leave at nine."

Hinata's sigh makes Kageyama's entire chest shudder. "You're not allowed to stop hugging me until you go," he says.

He lowers his head to Hinata's shoulder and says, easily, "I won't."

 

Kageyama wakes up from what could only barely count as sleep squinting against the sun. Every part of him is sore, especially on the side Hinata is plastered to, and his left arm, trapped under Hinata's warm weight, is entirely numb. It got cold in the night, but when they kissed they could ignore it; Kageyama doesn't even remember falling asleep, but it's not really surprising that he did eventually, with Hinata's hand tracing patterns down his arm and Hinata's breath warm and steady next to his ear.

The sun hasn't risen very high yet, but Kageyama guesses it must be seven, maybe later. He shifts his arm and Hinata makes a distressed noise.

"Hinata," he says.

Hinata makes the same noise and pulls his arm in closer. It's the hardest thing in the world to slip his arm away entirely, but Kageyama tries to make up for the shocked, bereft gasp that esapes Hinata's mouth by hugging him into consciousness.

Once Hinata is fully awake, he whimpers and wraps his arms around Kageyama's shoulders. "No," he says, once, without much fight.

"I'll see you as soon as you get back," Kageyama says, even though it hurts his throat, even though he knows it won't be enough for Hinata because it's not enough for him, either. "I'll meet you every weekend."

Hinata shakes his head, burrowing deeper into Kageyama's chest, but he doesn't protest. It takes full minutes before they can peel themselves apart.

"Kageyama," Hinata says once they're standing, hands stuffed deep into his pockets, hair a wild mess sticking out of his hood. His eyes are puffy and sleep-deprived, his cheek smudged with dirt from lying in sand all night, and Kageyama almost stumbles toward him again, overwhelmed with affection. But Hinata goes on, and it stalls him, overwhelming in a different way: "I'll miss you."

The breath that escapes from Kageyama is audible, practically a sob. "I'll miss you, too."

They make it to the boardwalk, somehow. Hinata doesn't look at Kageyama the entire way up the stairs, even though they both walk much slower than usual, the climb seeming to take forever.

"I'll call you," Hinata says, lifting his eyes from the cement to meet Kageyama's. "Every day. So you'd better pick up." 

"I will."

A jogger approaches from behind Hinata, and they both go quiet. Even after her footsteps fade away, it's hard to break the silence.

"I'll see you soon," Kageyama tries, working very hard to sound reassuring.

Hinata barely smiles. "Yeah."

Kageyama has nothing left to offer. Slowly, his hands curling into fists, he turns away. he means to start jogging but his limbs are heavy, dragging, rooting him to the spot. He only makes it a few shaky steps before Hinata's voice rings out again, _"Wait!"_ Kageyama has no sooner spun around than Hinata is crashing into him, arms encircling his neck, pressing kiss after desperate kiss to his jaw and mouth.

"Not yet," Hinata says between kisses, his voice taut. "Not yet."

Kageyama wraps arms around Hinata's waist and hugs him, so tight Hinata's feet lift off the ground. Hinata lets himself be lifted, leaning in, using the new angle to kiss Kageyama from above, hard, their mouths connecting with enough force that it actually hurts.

Anyone could see them. Anyone could come jogging up from behind him at any time. Kageyama thinks about this, registers it, before tossing the thought aside, angry he let it distract him even for a moment. He squeezes Hinata tighter and kisses back.

When Hinata breaks away, the loss of contact is like being doused in cold water; they both gasp. Kageyama's mouth aches but still he tries to chase Hinata's lips, struggling not to groan too obviously when Hinata evades him.

"Promise you're really going to come every weekend," Hinata says, pressing their foreheads together. "You have to promise."

"I do," Kageyama says, in a rush, "I will."

Hinata lets himself slide down, his feet touching the ground again, and cups Kageyama's face in his hands. For a few seconds they stand just like that, Kageyama grasping at Hinata's wrists, holding him there, silently willing him never to move again. But Hinata finally lets go, taking a wide step back, turning his face resolutely away. He's unable to even look Kageyama in the eye anymore.

"Goodbye," he says, his voice barely a whisper, and then he turns around and starts to jog.

It takes several seconds for Kageyama to recover. He feels winded, like he can't suck in enough air to fill his lungs, but eventually he forces his legs to move, carrying him in the opposite direction, away from Hinata's retreating back.

He only stops jogging to turn around once, about a minute in. Hinata's form is already so far away as to be almost invisible in the distance, but he thinks he sees it go still for a moment, too.

When he finally drags himself home, a glance at the clock on the microwave tells Kageyama it's seven-thirty. He collapses to the couch, resting his elbows on his knees and his forehead in his hands, and thinks about packing and getting dressed.

He can't move.

Mai finds him in the same position several minutes later.

"Oh, Tobio," she says, taking in the sight of him, which must be pretty telling, eyes bloodshot and hands trembling, still wearing the same clothes he had on yesterday and coated in sand and dust. 

She gets him a glass of water, takes a seat next to him on the couch, and folds him very carefully into a hug. Despite Kageyama's best efforts, hot tears are already starting to spill from his eyes when he hides his face in her shoulder, but she does a good job of pretending not to notice.

 

It's nowhere near as hot as it had been in Okinawa the day Kageyama arrives in Shinjou, but still he's damp with sweat when he steps off his train onto the platform. He scans around for the right exit—A3, he'd looked it up on a station map ahead of time—and heads for the stairs, taking them two-by-two, fighting to ignore the anxious churn of his stomach. He's forty minutes early. Once he's up the stairs, he finds a spot across from the exit where he can lean against a wall and wait.

It's been two weeks since he saw Hinata. Hinata's family had flown back on a Sunday, so they had to wait even longer to meet than originally planned, and even though they've so far followed through on their promises to call and text every day, it hasn't been easy.

Kageyama takes his phone out of his pocket and checks to make absolutely sure he hasn't missed any messages. He's never paid this much attention to a phone in his life, and he's a little embarrassed about it. On his third day back home, he'd asked his mother if he could get a portable battery since all Hinata's texts kept draining his phone before he got home from practice, and she'd stared at him so long she burned dinner. The next day she also bought him a battery, though, so that was all right.

And yet, all the texting and phone calls aside, Kageyama can't help the unwelcome fits of paranoia that keep finding him. Hinata likes him, sure, but Kageyama isn't sure what he's feeling could even be called _like_ anymore; he's too consumed, too far under, and a part of him is terrified that Hinata will take one look at his face and see everything written there, all the messages he's anxiously deleted and retyped a dozen times to get the words right, all the nights he's lain awake just because he couldn't stop thinking about the sunburn on Hinata's shoulders. It's not normal but he can't help himself, so now he's here, leaning against an unfamiliar train station wall, wiping sweaty palms on his jeans and checking his phone constantly like he's not embarrassingly early.

He checks it at thirty-five minutes, pockets it, checks again at thirty-two. When he looks back toward the exit, it's just in time: Hinata's hair is cresting the top of the stairs, and it only takes him a moment to spot Kageyama, who pushes away from the wall but then hovers there uncertainly.

 _Don't ruin it,_ he thinks, not sure whether he's fighting the impulse to run forward or to stay exactly where he is.

Hinata doesn't give him time to decide. He runs, weaving between two affronted-looking businessmen and a junior high school student, straight up to Kageyama, and doesn't seem concerned that the businessmen are still glaring when he wraps arms around Kageyama's middle and pulls him into a fast, fierce hug.

"Hinata." Kageyama's legs go weak with relief. He hugs him back, tight around the shoulders, and breathes deep into his hair. 

"Come on," Hinata says, pulling away much too soon. Kageyama has no idea where they're going but he lets himself be led by the wrist, staring helplessly at the back of Hinata's head, trying to remember if his hair looked quite so red the last time he saw him.

They end up in between the side of the station and a covered bike rack, in a long strip of space hardly wide enough for two people, although this becomes less of a problem when Hinata pushes him flat against the wall. 

"I got lost," Hinata says. It seems like a funny way to initiate a kiss, but that's what he does, surging up and in, catching Kageyama open-mouthed, drawing a startled noise out of him before he starts to kiss back.

 _He got lost, but we were both still early._ Kageyama can feel his stomach slowly starting to relax, or at least, starting to churn with something other than anxiety. 

"I _missed_ you." Hinata says it against his mouth, looking up at him through his eyelashes, and that does something to Kageyama's stomach, too.

Kageyama finds the strength, after only a short pause, to lift his hands, framing Hinata's face and brushing thumbs over his cheekbones. "I missed you," he says, echoing him. There's more to say than that, but he has time to get it out.

They kiss until long after the time they were actually supposed to meet. At some point, a rushing commuter jams a bike loudly into the rack behind them, and even though there's no way to see them through the cover they both startle, Hinata giggling a little, Kageyama's cheeks going hot.

"Oh," Hinata says, drawing the back of his hand across his mouth, "how was practice yesterday?"

"Good." Kageyama hesitates, but Hinata's eyes are shining, encouraging him on. "Coach wants me to start for the first game." He hadn't wanted to tell him in a text message. 

The noise Hinata makes is so high-pitched Kageyama winces, but he doesn't pull back when Hinata plants another kiss on him.

"Kageyama! That's so great!"

It's hard not to agree, but Kageyama feels awkward about it, so he changes the subject. "How's your wrist?"

Hinata holds it up proudly for Kageyama to inspect before pulling his hand back and giving him the thumbs-up. "One hundred percent ready for spiking! The nurse says I'm totally recovered."

The cuteness of this gesture is almost more than Kageyama can handle. "The gym is just across the street," he says, quickly, to distract from the color creeping into his cheeks. "Should we go in?"

He inclines his head in the direction of the gym, where a reserved volleyball court awaits them. Hinata spares it a half-second glance.

"Maybe later," Hinata says, smoothing his hands across Kageyama's chest and smiling up at him.

Without any hesitation at all, Kageyama smiles back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [reallycorking](http://reallycorking.tumblr.com)'s absolutely gorgeous fanart for this chapter can be viewed in its own post [here](http://reallycorking.tumblr.com/post/131715939429/lesbiopteryx-is-an-evil-torturer-who-tells-me)! I highly recommend staring at it every day of your life like I do
> 
> And [jean-bo-peep](http://jean-bo-peep.tumblr.com/) also drew [more lovely art](http://jean-bo-peep.tumblr.com/post/140887758698/more-doodles-for-lesbiopteryxs-sun-above-your) for this chapter! Thank you so much!!!


End file.
